Never Enough
by abc79-de
Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GGVM. COMPLETE!
1. Seeking Professional Help

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Seeking Professional Help

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

AN: Thanks to M and K, who inspire me and tell me I don't suck. If I'm only entertaining you two, I've done my fair share. :D

"He doesn't even own a pair of shorts."

It's the first thought that popped into Rory Gilmore's head upon being asked for personal information about one Jess Mariano. Perhaps if it hadn't been so hot or her stupid, so-called luxury, rental car had a working air conditioner, her thoughts as to why a person native to the east coast would ever stay in California under their own free will would have been kept at bay.

But as she longed to get back to her (hopefully) air-conditioned hotel and change into a more weather-appropriate outfit, it was the only personal detail she could think of. A mental image of him in jeans and his leather jacket—the outfit he kept popping up in last year as she was struggled to move past the girl that cared that he left her—and all she could do was smile.

The look on the girl that sat across the desk from her, ready to take the notes on the job Rory so hoped she'd agree to take, turned from professionally accepting of stupidity to annoyed.

"Look, Ms. …," she looked down to check the notes she'd jotted down so far. "Gilmore. I don't know if you've ever seen private investigators on TV or not, but we like a little more to go on than the items that inhabit their dresser drawers. While the thought of breaking into each and every home in a fifteen-mile radius might have it's advantages, both in my personal life and all the other cases Mars Investigations is currently working on," she began, seemingly spitting all that out in one breath. She could definitely be a contender in a Gilmore debate.

"No, of course not, I know other things about him, please, I need you to take my case. I can pay upfront, if that makes a difference. It did in Sam Spade movies. His eyes always lit up, despite his ability to show no other emotion whatsoever, and took the cash while he patted the poor, though debaucherous, woman on the back saying things like, 'there there, don't worry your pretty head,'" Rory babbled.

"You're on the lamb?" she blonde furrowed her eyebrows, leaning with sudden interest over the desk, her voice lowering as her eyes darted quickly to the closed door that no doubt separated her from her boss.

"No, no, it's just, in the movies, the woman usually is. Of course, Spade ends up falling in love with her," Rory babbled.

"I'm not going to fall in love with you," she smirked. "But we do accept cash advances."

"Oh, right," Rory pulled her purse into her lap. "How much?"

"Well that depends. Mr. Mars offers a variety of services, with packages that range from a couple hundred dollars to into the thousands. I'm just his screening process. Here solely do determine if help is needed, deserved, and available."

"And here I haven't read my handbook yet," Rory joked, causing the girl to smile.

"Just call me Juno," she deadpanned. "So, let's start again. What can you tell me about this," she consulted her notes again, "Jess?"

Rory took a deep breath and sat up straighter in her chair. "Well, none of his family is able to contact him; he contacts them via payphone when he has to. He was last known to be in Venice Beach, about a year ago."

"Was that the last time you saw him?" Veronica was scribbling on the pad.

"No," Rory bit her lip. "I saw him a year and half ago, in Connecticut."

"Connecticut?" Veronica asked, clearly surprised at the jump in locale.

"It's where this all started—I'm from a small town outside of Hartford. Stars Hollow--you've probably never heard of it."

"Had you ever heard of Neptune before coming to California?" Veronica related.

"I assumed he just went back to New York, he's from New York, but his uncle—Luke, he lives in my town—says that the last time he'd talked to him, Jess had gone back to California."

"And what narrowed your search to our fine community?" a level of sarcasm made its way through her routine questioning.

"His dad thought he was up here. Something about wanting seclusion and thinking Venice was full of hippies, and that he'd probably run out of money by the time he got this far. He wasn't very clear, but he seemed kind of sure of it."

Veronica nodded and smirked as she scribbled. "Sounds like you've done a bit of sleuthing already on your own. Do you have a picture of him?"

Rory frowned. "No. Do you need one?"

"That depends on how good your other information is. You don't have a phone number, address, or picture. How about Social Security Number?"

Rory shook her head.

"Place of employment?"

"No," Rory sighed.

"School?"

"Doubtful."

"Favorite restaurant?"

"Nope."

"How exactly did you know this guy?"

Rory fidgeted in her seat, wringing her hands together before pushing them under her thighs, feeling the new addition to her left ring finger scrape her even through the durable material of her jeans. "We dated."

"You dated, and thus far all you've been able to tell me is his first and last name, and the fact that he doesn't do shorts. Is this a one-night stand and now you'd like to introduce him to his kid kind of deal?"

"No, nothing like that," Rory blushed at the thought. "We didn't, I mean, we never," she stammered. She chastised herself inwardly, reminding herself of the fact that sex wasn't a big deal. She had been with two guys since Jess ran out of her life again. She wasn't the seventeen-year-old girl on the cusp of this milestone. She certainly wasn't pining for him, holding out hope that he was to be her first, her only, her anything. She was a woman on a search for… something. The word closure didn't seem quite right. But there it was.

"O-kay," the petite blonde drawled. "So tell me why you need to find this guy. Because you might want to save your money. At this rate it might be impossible to find him. If he's really come up here to disappear, it seems like this guy may have done just that."

"I have to find him; money isn't an issue," she said automatically, too used to having Logan Huntzberger as her backer. She bit her lower lip as the girl tapped her pen against the edge of the desk. "Do we have some kind of client confidentiality?"

"Of course."

"I just need to see him. I don't know why—I just know I do. I've been… restless, I guess, lately. I got engaged to a wonderful man. His name is Logan, and he's smart, rich; he loves me. I know I should just focus on the mounting wedding plans, but while I was in the bookstore last week, looking for bridal books, I came across this," she pulled a small book out of her bag.

"The Subsect?" Veronica looked it over. "By Jess Mariano."

"It was the only thing I bought. I read it in one night—and a few times since. Ever since then, he's all I could think about. I just, I need to see him before I can move on. I really thought I'd put his abrupt leaving behind me—even after he showed up and told me he loved me, only to leave again," she closed her eyes, feeling tears stinging.

"Well, at least finally we've got something we can use to find him," Veronica put the book on top of her legal pad. "You mind if I keep this for now?"

Rory looked up. "You're taking my case?"

"Let's just say I can totally relate to having your feelings torn between a runaway ex and a handsome rich boy named Logan," she smiled empathetically.

"You have no idea how refreshing it is to hear you say that. I can't really talk about this to anyone. No one knows I'm here," she confided.

"Including Logan?"

Rory nodded. "I have to leave by Saturday, so time is of the essence. Here's the information for the hotel I'm staying at, and my cell phone number. Call me any time day or night."

Veronica nodded. "Are you sure you want to see him again?"

Rory stood up, clutching her purse—now lighter as she'd handed over the only piece of Jess she'd had—and smiled sadly. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be. There are things that only he can tell me."

Veronica stood up, holding the book in one hand and stretching the other hand out to Rory. "I'll get right on it."

"It's a great read," Rory promised. "You won't be disappointed."

"Well, I hope you aren't either. We'll do our best."

With that proclamation, Rory took her leave, passing a troubled-looking young man in the hall. He bustled into the door she'd just left, and she could hear the surprise in the Veronica's voice as she said the name that had become so trained on her own tongue.

"Logan."

Rory winced at the guilt the name brought over her. She pulled out her cell phone, seeing no one had called. No one had missed her.

She wondered if that were truly the case, as she squinted toward the ever-present sun. She had proof that just because you don't call someone doesn't mean you don't miss them.

Perhaps if she could have just picked up the phone and talked to him, she wouldn't be alone in a strange city, with nothing to do but wait. She didn't want to think of what would happen if the crack team at Mars Investigations couldn't find him—if he'd moved on to another town or whatever happened to people when they fell off the face of the earth.

She really didn't want to think about what would happen if they did find him.

With a heavy sigh, she started the ignition and began her oven-like drive back to her mid-range hotel to ponder the last line of his novel for the thousandth time.

_Being whole was no longer his concern._

It was as if he'd burned the words into her heart instead of writing them on the page. She'd cried at the idea that his heroine had been modeled after her; both at her own desire that he had, and the overwhelming feeling that he'd gotten it all wrong. He'd gotten her all wrong.

She had a raging headache as she finally stepped into the cool lobby. She wiped tears off of her cheeks and willed the pain away as she fished her ringing cell phone out of her bag.

"Hi, Logan. No, I'm fine. How's your trip?"


	2. Papa Don't Preach

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Papa Don't Preach

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

AN: Aww, you guys rock, getting so excited and having faith. I promise to do my best to write both shows to the best of my ability. I do so love them both. The VM plotline is very current, while Rory's timeline is on par with GG; the plot line has skewed a bit to have them not only living together (and not broken up) to them actually having gotten engaged at some point. Just so you know. Jess never came to visit her about his book. Just to clarify. Okay, so on with it!

* * *

Sitting and waiting wasn't her forte. Her ability to be proactive in her current situation seemed slim to none, but she was about to crawl out of her skin if she sat for one more moment, hiding from the world in her hotel room. Just looking at the vase of fresh-cut flowers made her stomach churn with guilt at the fact that the only people that knew where she was were Lane, in case of emergency, and Veronica Mars, who she figured would at least attempt to track her down should she go missing at the hands of evil—to get the rest of her payment in any case. 

Having talked to Logan without telling him her whereabouts was easy. He was always full of ire and loathing (or piss and vinegar, as her mother called it) when he called from one of his father-inflicted business trips. Her talking wasn't necessary, as long as he knew she was listening. That's all he'd ever wanted, she thought—for someone to listen to him. Even a bad girlfriend, nay fiancé, could be a good listener. Evading her mother was trickier. She knew she'd have to answer the calls sooner than later—Lorelai would make the jump from 'too busy to talk' to 'taken from her bed by strangers' sooner rather than later and go to New Haven to smoke her out. And as much as she loved her, she knew that Lane would give her up in a second when confronted with a worried Lorelai. Her best friend had never been good at lying or stalling.

She needed to focus and regroup. She needed to remember why it was so important that she was here. She made her way to the nearest bookstore and scoured the shelves for the now familiar spine. When her search proved fruitless in the M section of fiction, she hit every single section before roaming through the entire fiction section again, hoping for it to have been simply misshelved.

She needed something of him to hold onto again; and until she'd found his book she had no idea how strong a pull he still had on her.

By the time she found herself in line to pay for the Band-Aid she'd chosen to cover her boredom—a book that would keep her eyes busy but not find it's way under her skin or cycling through her thoughts—she hadn't yet stopped the visual hunt. She scanned front displays, hoping against hope that it'd been pulled up front for easy access. It took the customer in line behind her clearing his throat and the cashier asking her to step forward to break her out of her haze.

"Did you find everything you were looking for?" came the pleasant voice.

Busted. "Oh, well, sort of. I mean," she tried to unwind her thoughts, when a fresh idea struck her. Why she hadn't thought of it before she hired a private investigator was beyond her. "Actually, I was wondering, do you do book signings here?"

"Yeah," came the upbeat response. "That'll be $15.05," she said.

"How about local authors?" she said as she pulled a fresh twenty dollar bill out of her wallet.

"Oh, yeah, sure," she said, clearly ready to end the polite chit-chat now that she handed back her change.

"How about, oh, I don't know, Jess Mariano, perhaps?" Rory asked, trying to sound unaffected by the way his name sounded in her own voice and still holding her change.

"Who?"

"Jess Mariano, he wrote _The Subsect_?" Rory offered.

"Never heard of it," she shrugged.

"Yeah, I noticed that you didn't have any copies of it on your shelves—I mean, I assume you're just temporarily out of it, it's so brilliant. You should really read it, I mean, it's so rare today to pick up a first-time author and not see how hard they were struggling to blend Hemingway with Hornby, or Kafka with King," she shook her head in distaste. "I mean, it's nothing earth-shattering, but it's brilliant in its simplicity and originality."

She noticed that the cashier was no longer paying attention to her—rather she was looking with annoyance at the increasingly lengthening line behind her.

"Yeah, never heard of him. Try Amazon or something," she suggested.

Rory grabbed her bag and took her leave, feeling her cheeks coloring at the way she went on to the poor sales girl. It wasn't her fault she was having the worst flip-out in Gilmore history.

She still needed something, she decided as she hit the warm city streets. Coffee. She clearly hadn't had enough coffee today. She'd let her thoughts get the better of her, and caffeine would restore sense to her brain. She would find a coffee shop and read her book. With any luck, Veronica would call her before too long, and she might be talking to Jess that very evening.

Yes, just the idea of caffeine made her feel like it could fall into place so easily. She would be back on a plane in the morning, and no one would be the wiser.

Staring at the same line for forty-five minutes was sign one that caffeine was serving only to speed up the pace at which every thought she had of Jess raced through her mind. She was cycling through calling him Dodger to the look on his face when she told him she didn't want to be with him in less than a minute at this rate. Slamming the cover shut on her book, she pulled out her cell phone. She needed something to do, something new to see or experience.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dad. It's me."

"Rory, this is a surprise. Shouldn't you be in class or burrowed back in the dusty stacks in that library you dragged me around?"

"Dragged you? You said you wanted to see my favorite places," she reminded.

"I know, but I was hoping that more of your mother's or my tastes had rubbed off on you. I'm starting to question your true paternity. I think there's a guy with a protractor in his pocket and taped glasses out there that you're supposed to be calling Daddy," he teased.

"I have your musical talent, remember?" she teased.

"Ah, darn. Again my plans are foiled. So, what's up?"

"Well, funny you should ask," she swallowed. "I need a suggestion."

"Suggestion, huh? For what?"

"Things to do in California."

"You planning a trip?"

"Um, no, more like walking in the sunshine as we speak," she said as she squinted into the sun, happy to leave the confines of the coffee shop, where she'd found no solace.

"Whoa, maybe I was wrong. You got our sense of spontaneity."

"You sound like a dissociative disorder patient when you do that," she informed him.

"Which is fancy speak for?"

"Sybil," she sighed as she stopped at a crosswalk, heading toward nothing.

"So, you're out there with Logan? Sounds like a last-minute trip his father is famous for sending him on. You must get pretty bored when he's in meetings all day," he consoled.

"Not as bored as he is, I'm sure," she said, the lie coming out of her mouth faster than she could even decide to mislead him. Well, it wasn't a total mistruth—she was sure Logan was bored out of his mind, as well as in a meeting of his father's arrangement. But she knew for a fact that he was seated in a high rise in Toronto, no where near Neptune, California.

"So, whereabouts are you?"

"Neptune," she said, her voice full of uncertainty as to if he'd have even heard it—and he'd lived in California for a number of years.

"Which is near…?" he led.

"San Diego, kind of. It's the airport I, um, we flew into," she frowned. Now she knew why lying was best when premeditated. Back story was key.

He tsked. "Can't say I ever really traveled much in that area. I was in Berkeley for the main part."

"They're not close?"

"Um, not really, kid," he held in a laugh. "Unless you have a day or so to travel. Will Logan be getting any spare time to sightsee with you?"

"Oh, no, it's just me, on my own."

"Well, sorry I can't be any more help than that, but you know your mother's first rule of random traveling," he reminded.

"When in doubt, ask a local, I know," she sighed. "It's just, people here, they don't look so friendly. It's like they're all wearing their inner turmoil on their sleeves."

"They can't be any scarier than the nut jobs you grew up with," he assured her. "I seriously nearly pulled you out of there the first time I visited."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Dad, but I think Mom could take you, if forced to," she mused.

"How am I supposed to take that the right way?"

"Yeah, good point."

"Alright, now go talk to strangers."

"You gotcha," she giggled. "The ones with candy are the best ones, right?"

"You know how to let your father sleep well at night," he sighed before they said their goodbyes. It wasn't until after she hung up and stuck her phone back in her bag that she realized she should have asked him not to mention the call to her mother. She knew they still chatted every now and then, and Chris had a tendency to call Lorelai when he got an inky feeling as to what their shared daughter was up to. They were a family of finkers.

"I really suck at this," she said softly to herself as she spied out the friendliest-looking, most weather-appropriately dressed person on the street.

"Excuse me," she leaned in, ready for her out of town spiel, in search of where arty local types might hang out. So much for getting her mind off of Jess.

XXXX

"How many in your party?" the hostess swung around with a couple of menus at the ready, only to find herself face to face with her newest client. "Are you stalking me?" she asked sweetly.

Rory smiled. "I thought you had a job—or are you undercover?"

"You got me. I'm undercover as your typical poor high school student in desperate need of tips," she retorted. "I take it you're a party of one?"

"I don't need a whole table. Maybe I'll just sit at the bar," Rory pointed.

Veronica nodded. "They serve the full menu of delectable treats," she hesitated. "How did you find your way to The Hut, anyhow?"

Rory looked down. "Oh, I just asked around, where the good haunts were," she tried to play off her heaviness of mind.

"Look," Veronica said softly. "I have a break in about ten minutes. I'll come by and update you on your case—I may have very promising lead," she cheered the brunette instantly.

"Thank you—I didn't come here for that, but thank you."

"I know why you came," she said softly. "If he is a regular, it's a good night. It's open mike night, and nearly all our regulars pack in."

Rory nodded and made her way to the bar, which she noticed was nearly full already. Scanning through the sea of faces, she saw only unfamiliar lines and shadows unknown. She tried to let Veronica's promise of a possible lead envelop her, and she sat down at the bar, ordering yet another coffee, hoping that she wouldn't have to be pried off the walls by night's end. Normally her caffeine intake didn't make her feel so jittery. The thought that her nerves were frazzled by her deception and anticipation consumed her.

It was almost enough for her to leave. Almost, but not quite.

A voice came over the sound system, greeting the crowd in a mellow tone to open mike night and informing them that anyone with desire to come up and entertain was welcome—with the warning that heckling was encouraged and caning was administered if the pain grew too great or sales dipped too low.

Rory had to smile as a man sidled in beside her, not even bothering to look for a stool in the mass of people.

"Total honesty. It's refreshing to hear, isn't it?"

She looked to the balding man, who was beaming brightly at her. She supposed that a total stranger who was leaning into her and smiling at a bar, coffee or otherwise, should have put her off—or at least kicked in a fight-or-flight response—but she agreed with him.

"It is indeed. Very rare these days, I'd say. Highly commendable."

"I'm so glad you agree. Could I venture to say then, that if I asked you a question, you'd reply honestly?"

"Look, if this is some sort of belabored pick-up line," Rory shook her head and circled her index finger around the top of the rim, mindlessly wiping off the dribbled creamer and the remains off her lipstick that had rubbed off.

"Okay. I just had a moment that I'm not comfortable with," Keith Mars backed up a few paces and shook his head. "Let me start by introducing myself. I'm Keith Mars. Father of Veronica, whom I believe you're acquainted with?"

"Oh, well, sort of," she frowned, realizing that the senior member of the team she'd hired didn't seem to know her name.

"Normally this is the part of the conversation where the other person introduces themselves."

"Well, my grandmother always said that my mother failed to socialize me properly," she said nervously. "Apparently my manners aren't what they could be. Rory Gilmore," she stuck her left hand out, as her right one was still gripping her mug of coffee.

"I saw you chatting with my daughter earlier, Ms. Gilmore," he got to his point.

"Um, yes," she nodded. "Is that a problem?" she inquired, wondering if some sort of hierarchy at the firm had been breached.

"Is this about Terrance Cook?" he asked in a low tone.

"I'm sorry, who?" she leaned back in, following his lead.

"What you have to understand, Ms. Gilmore, is that my daughter, while meaning well, often gets a bit ambitious. She takes on more than I'm comfortable with her handling, and in my line of work… well, sufficed to say that from now on, I'd appreciate if you passed on any information you have to me in this matter."

"This matter?"

"Dad," Veronica's upbeat voice resounded from behind them. Rory turned on her stool, as did Keith, to look at the harried-looking blonde. "I didn't peg you for the sadist type."

"I'm more of a masochist," he mused. "I've prepared a piece for this evening."

Rory watched the bout with interest. It reminded her somewhat of her rounds of ammo that she exchanged with her mother. And she nearly spit her coffee out into her cup when Keith's response to what he intended to perform this evening came.

"Well, I got together with Vinnie and Cliff, and we've prepared a little number, an ode to _The Full Monty_, if you will," he said without even an expression change.

"But you hate Vinnie," she admonished, not even batting an eyelash as the visual that even Rory could conjure up, from the names alone.

"Yeah, but the man knows how to shake his thang," he drawled.

"Excuse me, I have to go vomit up dinner," Veronica curtseyed a bit and grabbed Rory's hand. "Girls always go in pairs," she winked at her Dad, who'd ensured her nightmares for the next six to nine months.

After checking all the stalls, Veronica looked up apologetically to Rory.

"Sorry. My dad, well, he does that."

"Who is Terrance Cook?" she asked.

"He's of no importance to you," she shook her head. "Now, on the Mariano front, I've taken the book and contacted the publisher, under the pretense of being a major house interested in picking it up for mass production. Evidently the first run was only 500, so a bite like mine will be taken seriously. He should already have heard about it."

"Why didn't your dad know who I was?" Rory asked slowly, switching tracks.

"Right," she clicked her tongue against her teeth. "It's sort of my case. I can assure you, I'm just as professional as my father. I've learned everything I know from him, and he's the best there is."

"Veronica," Rory shook her head. "It was clear that your father has concerns about your being in the field."

"Look, I heard him tell you that he wants to protect me, and I guess he'd be a bad father if he was comfortable with letting his teenage daughter run around taking pictures that incriminate and tailing those wanted for crimes. But this is a reuniting of lost love—and even my father couldn't be upset about my involvement in that, I promise you."

"You're a teenager?" Rory's mouth dropped open.

"I told you, earlier," Veronica disclosed.

"I thought you were kidding," she collected her thoughts.

"If you really want me off the case, I'll understand. But this is kid stuff, I assure you. Who better to handle it than a kid?"

Rory nodded. "I'm not the one to deny you based on withholding facts to the people that love you. This whole trip for me," she began but thought the better of it, biting her lip to keep the rest of her words at bay.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just, I lied to my father, I'm avoiding my mother's calls, and my fiancé—I don't even understand why I'm lying; I don't understand why I'm here at all."

"The same reason everyone lies, ultimately," Veronica shrugged. "To protect the people you love."

Rory nodded. "I just hope it's all worth it."

"I'm gonna ask you one more time—are you sure you want me to find this guy?"

Rory nodded. "I've come this far. I just need to push past the guilt."

"That's the spirit," Veronica squeezed her shoulder. "Now, I've arranged for a meeting with his agent tomorrow. It's customary for the author to show up, but just in case, I'm gonna go alone in hopes of getting his contact information—mainly his address since you said there was no phone. I don't want you there if you don't have to be. It'll be better for you to go to him later, instead of him feeling ambushed in a professional setting. That way he can think later that the deal fell through at the higher up level—not associating you with it."

Rory nodded. "I'd publish as many copies of that book as I could," she breathed. "Did you read it?"

"It's amazing," Veronica nodded. "It gave me hope, seemingly while telling me why no one is worth counting on."

"That's Jess," Rory sighed, her mouth upturned and eyes sparkling.

"Then you're doing the right thing," Veronica said simply.

And just like that, they were bonded in their silence and lies of love.


	3. Ten Thousand Ways to Leave a Lover

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Ten Thousand Ways to Leave a Lover

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Rory pressed the ignore button on her phone, the waves of guilt nipping at her feet. She told herself that she wasn't up to talking to anyone about anything. That she had taken this time away, away from all the realities that had come to form her everyday life in New Haven, this time for herself. But that rationalization didn't make the knowledge that keeping her whereabouts from her mother was only growing more difficult by the moment.

Her only source of true distraction was the television in the corner of her room. Reading was out of the question. There was only one book she wanted to read, and words on the pages of any other swirled together in an incoherent jumble of inferiority.

"Breaking news in the Neptune High bus crash," came the reporter's voice. It seemed all that ever made the airwaves in this town was late-breaking news stories. She smiled to herself, glad that if she were ever in true need of a job, she'd know where to come. Her smile faded, however, as the broadcaster continued on, a strangely familiar name falling off of her lips.

"Terrance Cook has been arrested, charged with causing the crash in efforts to keep his personal life out of the frenzied eye of the media. It seems Cook's main motive…," Rory turned down the volume as she watched the man's picture splash up in the upper right-hand corner of the screen as a reenactment of a bus of high schoolers careening off the sheer face of a cliff played over the rest of the flat panel. Keith Mars' suspicion of her possibly being involved with this person made her shudder; as did his grave concern for his own daughter's safety. As if Veronica was in actual danger. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a knock came to her hotel room door.

She chastised herself as she checked her watch; sure it was only the room service she had ordered. She realized she really wasn't hungry, but moved to answer the door anyhow.

She frowned as the small blonde smiled at her from the other side of the threshold. "Expecting someone else?"

"Oh, well," Rory shook her head. "Actually, I wasn't expecting anyone."

Veronica nodded. "I have an update, mind if I come in?"

Rory ushered her in politely. "Please," she said, realizing as she shut the door that Veronica's eyes were focused on the now silent, but still glowing television. "Oh, I was just, skimming through the channels."

"Can't imagine anything else was on," Veronica quipped tersely.

"No, not really," Rory bit her lip as she scurried to make the screen fade to black. "Did you, um, know any of those kids?"

"I was one of those kids," she said softly before turning away from the reflective dark monitor.

"But I thought it said," Rory frowned, hating to say the words, though it wasn't as if it weren't the gruesome truth. No survivors. Her holding it back didn't make it any less real for the community, or as was very apparent, Veronica.

"I was on the bus, at first. I got left behind when we made a pit stop at a gas station. Seems my bus buddy wasn't so keen on sharing her Moon Pie with me on the way back to school."

Rory shivered. "What a twist of luck."

"I hope so," she gritted her teeth. "Anyhow, I came to update you on your case."

Rory nodded, not wanting to push her on the gory details of the incident, though her journalistic nature was teeming with inquiries. "Would you like something to drink? I could crack open the mini-bar or room service should be up in a minute."

Veronica waved her hand. "I have to get back soon, for dinner. Dad's got this thing about quality time recently," she groaned.

"He's overprotective," Rory nodded knowingly.

"I think he just needs to get laid," Veronica half-smiled, half-grimaced.

"Oh," Rory flushed a bit.

"So, I got a call on my cell today, from what at first I thought was his agent. Most publishers deal directly with an author's agent—it's their best way of getting the best deal they can strike up."

"Right," Rory nodded, knowing plenty about the publishing world. It was a necessary evil that she'd begun to learn to deal with as she navigated her way through the first few writing jobs she'd had.

"But turns out, it was him."

"Jess?"

Veronica nodded. "He doesn't seem to have an agent—and he gave me an address to mail the deal to. He seemed put off by the whole notion, which is odd because most authors jump at the words 'increased circulation.'"

Rory smiled. "That's Jess. He, well, he can take more convincing at times. Especially when it comes to himself."

"The next step is up to you. The address could be his—or it could just be a box that he has mail delivered to. I plan on heading to it tomorrow—fake deal in hand, just in case, to check it out."

Rory nodded. "How is it up to me?"

"Well, I could also give you the address. You could prepare something written, to leave for him in case it's not his home address. But I'm still very willing to be your screening process. Our sleuthing offers maximum knowledge without you having to lift a finger."

Rory nodded as she thought about what Veronica was offering up as choices. Would he even open the door for her, if he saw her face on the other side of a peep hole? Would he open any letter that bore her handwriting on the outside, care at all what she could have to say to him at this point in time?

"I'd like you to check it out first—to be sure."

Veronica nodded and stood up. "Okay. I should have a definitive answer for you by tomorrow."

A knock came to the door again. "That should just be my food," Rory offered.

"I'll let them in on my way out," Veronica offered, but remained frozen once she opened the door. "Logan."

Rory froze at once as well; the very mention of the name made her blood run cold just from the lack of answers she had for her actions. Not that he didn't deserve them; the man that had asked her to marry him had every right to know that she was three thousand miles away from their home, employing services in effort to get in touch with a man that had done nothing but run from her or push her away for years.

"Logan?" she managed to find her voice.

"What are you doing here?" Veronica asked with such distaste and annoyance that Rory's certainty of being found out wavered.

"I saw you come in the building," came a very unfamiliar voice. "And I thought to myself, what ever could dear sweet Veronica be up to in the middle of the day in such a swank hotel?"

"They created restraining orders for situations like this," she narrowed her eyes.

"You doubt my true concern for your wellbeing? I came up here to tell you that you don't have to turn to this kind of life for money. I heard about the Stanford thing, and I can't let you earn the money this way," he began as he pushed his way into the living room area. His eyes fell on Rory and his smirk hardened on his face. "But if I can be of any service, you know, up your rates, I'm not doing anything for the next hour or so."

"And this would be?" Rory asked.

"A walking dead man," Veronica assured her. "Ignore him, I find it's the easiest way to get through a day."

"You really need to work on making your anger more seething. I can still see how much you want me—hell, I bet even this perfect stranger can tell that you wish she'd step into the bathroom so you could have just one, fleeting moment alone with me," he advised.

"Maybe I should leave you two alone," Rory offered.

"He's not staying," Veronica assured her. "Why are you here?"

"I. Live. Here," he said slowly. "Why are you here?"

"I'm … on business."

"So I was right. I love being omnipotent."

"That doesn't mean what you think it means," Veronica seethed.

"Now, see, there I believed it. So, what has Ronnie here promised to do for you?"

"That's confidential," Veronica sighed.

"Now, if we're really going to do this thing, we can't have secrets," he tsked, turning his attention back to Rory. "You an informant or an informee?"

"Excuse me?" Rory asked.

"Veronica here only works two ways. She either wants something from you or has something for you. Either way, she likes to get the job done and get out. Isn't that right?" he turned to Veronica.

"Careful, Logan. Rory here is a journalist," Veronica announced. "And you know how well your interactions with journalists tend to turn out. Do you really need another story on what a jackass you are to hit the newsstands near us?"

"A journalist, huh?" Logan stood up and glided toward Rory. "Pretty thing like you? Nah, you'll make someone a shiny, happy, trophy wife someday. Or, oh," he moved his attention to the giant diamond that graced her left hand. "She's a trophy wife in training. Veronica here looking over the hubby-to-be, making sure he isn't into anything really freaky that you can't drink away?"

"Not everyone drinks to assuage their circumstances," Veronica bit back. "And what Rory and I are discussing is our business, not yours."

"See, I knew she wasn't a journalist. She lacks the killer instinct," he smiled at them.

"Is there something you want to go on record with? Maybe your connection to what the Fitzpatricks' role in the bus crash was?"

Rory was helpless to do anything but listen to the rapid-fire blame game that seemed to be going on between the pair. She had more than an acute awareness that there was more history than a team of archeologists could unearth in a lifetime between the two.

"What does the phrase 'Acquitted of all charges,' mean to you?" he strummed his finger against his chin.

"What does the phrase, 'Robbing Paul to pay Peter' mean to you?" Veronica didn't miss a beat.

"Excuse me?"

"Hannah. You used her to save your ass. Is that what you did with me, too?"

Logan suddenly looked like he'd been socked in the stomach with a bag of bricks. His eyes moistened slightly, not to be taken necessarily as pain or sadness or anything concrete, but he bowed his head slightly to Rory, his eyes flickering from Veronica to her at the last moment. "At least use a photo that shows my good side," he instructed before turning to exit the room.

The girls were silent for a moment. Rory cleared her throat. "So, that was your version of Logan."

Veronica nodded slowly. "Ye-ee-ep," she drawled. "That's him."

"You two, uh," she hedged.

"Yeah. We did."

"Is he always so," Rory wrinkled her brow in thought.

"Oh, yeah."

"That's intense."

Veronica shrugged. "Things ended suddenly. His life was uprooting, and if I held on to him, I knew I'd get buried by the debris. He seems to have taken it personally."

Rory nodded. "You think he has something do to with the bus crash?"

Veronica looked around the room. Rory noticed the blue-green light that seemed to always be pouring in through the windows of this town, as if the sun were shining through stain glass, or they were just under a neon sign for some half-rate bar. It bathed everything and everyone in an ethereal haze, giving much of her time spent in this town a dream-like quality. As if she could wake up and be in her bed, cold from the lack of Logan's presence. He'd still be gone on business, but she'd not have committed these trespasses of trust. When she Googled Jess' name over a mug of coffee, she would find no link for the review of his book in the San Diego-based paper.

Sadness fell over her, and with the sound of Veronica's voice she thought maybe the emotion had taken over the room. "Finding answers isn't always all it's cracked up to be."

Maybe she was right; but it didn't make her own desire to find what she had come for less imperative.

"I should get going."

Rory nodded, watching her as if suddenly everything was underwater. Slowly they both moved to the door, as if stronger in numbers against the ghosts that seemed so able to float toward them. "I'll give you a call once I know what the address is."

"Thank you. For everything," Rory said with sincerity.

"Just doing my job."

Rory nodded as she walked down the hall. She closed her door and moved to pick up her cell phone. It was full of unreturned phone calls and un-listened to voice mails. Concerned voices, one after another, those people in her life that she could always count on, that care where she is and that she's happy. That will be there if she stumbles, or if she soars. But could anyone catch her if she fell from this height?

She dialed the numbers carefully, opting for a cognizance that doesn't come with using speed dial. Speed dial was too immediate. It gave her no time to rehearse opening lines. It gave her no time to chicken out and end the call before it began.

"Rory? Finally! I thought you'd actually decided to go through with that eloping plan you and Logan keep threatening everyone with. Not that I could blame you for wanting to evade the world of place cards and thank you notes that will cost more than our first car, but I will kill you if you get married and I'm not there."

"I'm definitely not married."

"Good. So, what are you up to?"

She knew something was up. The talk of eloping and the carefree, I-don't-care-but-please-tell-me-anyway tone of her voice was more than enough of a give away.

"Dad called you?"

"He might have called."

"You two are hopeless."

"Hey, he knows the rules. I birthed you, therefore I get to know your whereabouts. For ever and ever."

"And ever and ever?" she mocked.

"Clearly you need a copy of the Gilmore Handbook."

"Does your mother know where you are?"

"Unfortunately—she's called five times about color swatches and alternatives to sunflowers, which she claims aren't bridal, by the way. But I have spared her the details on your vacancy of the state. She'd have a private investigator on your tail faster than you could blink, making sure you weren't nullifying her wedding plans."

Rory winced. "It was a last-minute decision."

"So, are you staying somewhere fabulous?"

"It's not bad. I'm just waiting around for room service now."

"Isn't Logan there?"

"He was—he just left."

It wasn't a lie. It was a misrepresentation of the facts that her mother believed to be true. Whether or not she wanted lying to get easier was more troubling to her at this point.

"You really like hanging out in hotel rooms alone? You should have stayed in town, or better yet, come home. We need to start looking for my dress for your wedding."

"We have ages," she assured her.

"We don't have ages—you really do need to start getting things done."

She had been putting things off, but she thought she'd been hiding the fact quite well. Letting Emily handle it made the most sense—it mended some still fragile fences between them, and it took all the time she'd have to face the approaching moment of becoming Logan's wife away.

"I know. And as soon as classes are over, I'll have plenty of time to do everything."

"It's good for you guys to get away, probably," Lorelai soothed.

"Yeah," she echoed hollowly.

"Rory," Lorelai breathed. "You'd tell me, if something were wrong, right?"

"Like what?" she felt her own breath catch in her throat.

"I don't know. If you were having doubts, or trouble deciding on a cake, or, just, anything."

Could she tell her mother? Even if she could, would Lorelai be supportive and open-minded enough to tell her what she was doing this very moment was right?

"I'm fine," she managed.

"Okay. Say hi to Logan for me."

"I will," she promised, promising herself at the same time to make good on the tidings. It was the least she could do.

She sank down onto the couch, staring straight up at the blue-green ray of light coming down and striking the floor just beyond the coffee table. A displaced sense of calm slackened her muscles, and her thoughts turned to one of her most reread novels—_The Great Gatsby_. It was as if she'd found her very own green light. She thought of how Jay Gatsby had the promise of perfection, calling out to him as long as he could see the green light that bridged the distance from him to the woman he loved. It didn't matter what had separated them, or what continued to keep them apart, there was still a connection.

Suddenly the idea of being Daisy Buchanan of the twenty-first century ebbed into her brain. She'd thought of herself until this point as seeking after something; seeking what path in life was truly meant to be hers. But if she was truly honest with herself, and that was the hardest part, the elements were all there. There was a boy that she had, in so many ways, promised herself to. He'd never come back for her at the right times, and she'd created a very posh, comfortable life with a man that cherished her. While she was sure she loved Logan, who was nothing akin to Tom Buchanan's cruelty and disregard for his wife's feelings, she'd always known that her unspoken promises were the same as unfinished business with Jess.

Jess had found his way to her in the past, and when she sent him away—too full of pride and anger to admit her pain—he created their very own green light. His beautiful work of art. His side of their story, written down lest they forget. She has prayed for that lapse of memory.

Now it was her turn to let her know she saw his signal; she was just as unable to let go of their past as the man that wrote her into such an idealized version of herself that, had she not been there in their intimate moments, she wouldn't have even recognized herself.

She closed her eyes and basked in the light of her past.

XXXX

Veronica knocked on the door, in all actuality surprised that the man had given up his own address to a stranger he seemed not to trust. For someone who liked his privacy and was in all effects unreachable, this was one of her easiest cases of 'missing person' to crack.

"You sellin' something?"

He needed to shave—probably a good two days worth of growth covered his chin and jaw. He is attire was not that of a native Southern Californian. Rory had been right about the modern James Dean attire.

"That depends," she put her foot in the door as he moved to swing it shut. "I'd like to sell more copies of your book," she clarified.

"You read it?" he checked.

"I did. It was brilliant."

"Really?" he still wasn't buying it. "What was your favorite part?"

She held the portfolio case she'd brought along tighter to her body. "Can we maybe sit down?"

"Maybe. Go on."

She wanted to roll her eyes, but held steadfast. "The main character's obsession with the girl."

"I'm sorry, did you say obsession?"

"I did."

"He wasn't obsessed."

"I suppose not—I guess consumed is a better word."

"He walked away."

"Because he loved her," she shrugged, maintaining eye contact.

"Which house did you say you were with?" he inquired.

"Ah, well, it's a new publisher," she clicked her tongue.

"How about you tell me why you're really here?" he sighed. He looked weary—as if he'd skipped a couple of night's sleep for whatever reason.

"I just came to gauge your interest—you sounded rather unenthused about the notion on the phone."

"Who sent you?"

"I--," she began, but he held up his hand.

"I'm tired. If any of my family, outside of my uncle, is trying to contact me, forget it. Tell them I died, I'm in prison, whatever."

"It's not your family," she promised.

He looked at her as if he knew every last detail of her ending up on his doorstep for a moment. She could see the depths of his eyes. "But you're some sort of private investigator?"

She nodded reluctantly.

"Tell me, how much do you charge to keep people hidden?"

She shook her head, "That's not really what we do."

He drew one hand over his face, feeling the stubble under the pads of his fingers. "You really read my book?"

She smiled. "I did."

"You have it on you?"

She nodded and pulled out the thin volume. She had no intention of passing it from her hands to his, but in an instant, it was in his hands, and he opened the front cover. The dedication page was a hook in and of itself. There were no names listed; only a single phrase.

_Because you never said goodbye._

"You know what this means?"

She shook her head. "No."

He nodded, relief seemingly washing over him. "Tell whoever it is," he began, but stopped dead in his tracks. She realized immediately that he was staring not at his own words, but at the scribbling that Rory had made in the margins. Some were single words, some were entire essays on her interpretation—some seemed to be memories. Veronica had not been able to quell her curiosity enough to skip over what, in some ways, seemed to be the unwritten text of the book. "Tell her goodbye."

Veronica frowned. "I think she might want to tell you that herself."

He smiled faintly, as if he was remembering a time when he meant all that the expression conveyed. "You know how the Eskimos have no one word for snow—they have like, ten thousand?"

She nodded. "There are so many different varieties."

"They need that many, because one word, it won't cover it. Nothing could express the range, or encapsulate all that they experience in one single word."

"I'm not following."

"Goodbye is like that for us. Separation, in whatever form, was never sufficient. It's defined as a taking of leave, and no matter the circumstances, when we parted ways, never were we able to leave the other behind."

"Does that mean you don't want to see her?"

"It means that she doesn't need to say goodbye. So what else is left to say?"

Veronica was still in a daze from his words, his soft-spoken apathy so full of colored emotion, moments after he'd shut the door without a proper conclusion. She was back in her car and stuck in rush-hour traffic before she realized she'd left Rory's copy of what was most likely now an out-of-print book with the anti-social author.


	4. Playing Telephone

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Playing Telephone

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

AN: Thanks to M and K, who read when forced, and K for her 'ideas'. It's so in there, I hope you enjoy. Even if there are both Logans involved.

Veronica screwed the lid back on the stainless steel coffee thermos and absent-mindedly scanned through the radio stations. It'd been three hours since the sun went down and therefore since she'd been parked across the street from this house that seemed either abandoned or as if its inhabitants were on vacation. There was no movement; no cars parked out front, no lights on, no animals in the yard, nothing. Not only had her snacks run out an hour ago, making her hunger pangs louder and harder to ignore, but her belief that she even needed her camera had waned to the point that it just laid in her lap, her fingertips brushing it every ten minutes or so, like a curled up cat.

The first few bars of 'Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting' made her turn the volume on her car radio up slightly; not enough to draw attention from outside the car should anyone happen by, but enough for the corners of her mouth to upturn into a grin. Her cell phone rang about halfway through her own rendition of the classic tune, and she took a moment to see who was disrupting her stakeout.

"I was just thinking of you," she informed her caller.

"I'm always thinking of you," came the retort.

"Hmm, sweet or frightening?" she seemed to be considering her options out loud.

"We share DNA and, despite what U.S. law mandates, eighteen isn't my particular cut off point for caring about your whereabouts and well-being."

"That may be the sweetest thing anyone's said to me all day."

"So, why were you thinking of me?"

"Because everybody was kung fu fighting," she said with a bored sigh.

"It was only that once," he defended.

"Yeah, but you knew the dance, which leads me to believe it wasn't the first time."

"Hey, you're good at that—I bet you'd be good at that _Clue_ game," he teased.

"So, what can I do for you, Professor Plum?"

"Well, I was thinking about strapping on the old apron and making tamales and nachos rancheros," he drawled. "I wanted to know when you'd be back to Casa de Mars," he inquired.

She closed her eyes for the briefest moment, not feeling any danger of missing anything while she let guilt of her impending lie wash over her. "Feeling all domestic, are we?"

"I'm hoping that flooding you with enough good memories of me now will block out the unfortunate slips from my past that you've got embedded in your mind," he confided.

"Well, saving me some will definitely count toward erasing one ill-fated sighting of your Carl Douglas impression."

"You never say no to my tamales," he sounded more than disappointed, and she knew she was very close to receiving a whole heaping of empty nest guilt.

"I am not turning down the tamales; I'm choosing to test the myth that leftovers can be even better than the original meal. It's something I've always meant to get a good handle on for a variety of foods. I mean, really the only ones I'm sure of is Chinese food's miraculous ability to breed flavor in a refrigerator in one of those take-out boxes and the sorry fact that no matter what you do, reheated French fries are of the devil," she figured perhaps distraction wasn't a worthless option here—even if it's chances of working were slim to none.

"Veronica, where are you?"

"I'm just doing a favor for someone," she said hurriedly.

"A friend?" his questioning wasn't going to be anything short of exhausting and thorough this evening.

"Someone who asked nice."

"Nice as in offering payment for services?"

"Just what kind of girl do you think I am?" she picked up her camera with one hand as a slow-moving car glided down the street, but then she relaxed her hand as it continued on down the block, never quite slowing to a stop, but never speeding up; as if out for a Sunday drive in the middle of the week in this less than prestigious neighborhood.

"You aren't supposed to be taking on jobs, especially now. It's too dangerous, you can't be sure what anyone's motives are," he forewarned. "Not to mention that all you should be focusing on is keeping up your grades for that scholarship."

"Dad," she said clearly. "I'm fine. I will be home at a reasonable hour, and I assure you that I am in no danger."

"Are you positive? You can trust the person that hired you?" the edge to his voice wasn't to be mistaken.

She thought it over for a moment, turning over his face in her mind, then searching for fear in any molecule of her body during their time together. "I'm positive."

"It'd make me feel better if you told me where you were," he hinted.

"You'll feel better when I'm home reheating tamales," she corrected. "And the sooner I get off the phone, the sooner I'll be home."

"Fine. But I'm trusting you to call me if you need help."

"I appreciate that. Now go practice busting a move," she smirked as they hung up, leaving her alone again with bad music and an empty house out her window.

XXXX

Rory held back the curtains, looking out over the ocean view her hotel room afforded her. It was a gorgeous view, even at night. She'd watched the sun disappear under the horizon, as if the water had swallowed it whole. She'd booked the room hastily, not caring about amenities or proximity to local attractions; all she'd seen as she talked to the airline agent was Jess. So far she'd seen everything but.

Neptune was nothing like home. Everyone here had a past, a past filled with secrets that they held close to their vests, letting others see only their sarcasm that they hoped deflected any suspicion. This was more than apparent from the few vignettes she'd spent with Veronica and those in her life that only affirmed to her that even those that that one loved were kept at bay with a veil of need-to-know information and held back both things they were afraid to share about themselves and things they were afraid to find out about the other person.

She wondered if this place had called Jess home, or if he'd just stumbled upon it when he ran out of travel money.

It wasn't her cell phone that rang, but the hotel room line. She dropped the curtain and moved quickly, the short list of those that knew she was there or could have found out flashed through her mind. She wondered if it was someone she was comfortable with knowing her secrets.

"Hello?"

"So. Imagine my surprise when I get a call from Logan earlier today."

Her mother's voice alone made her eyes close. Her words instilled a fear that she'd been dreaming about since she got on the plane alone. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, as she contemplated the repercussions of keeping this secret from her mother. She knew no words could help her right now; she had to wait it out until she got the full picture of how much her mother knew.

"I mean, first of all, it never tends to be good news when I get a call, or God forbid a visit, from him alone, but just as I was about to ask how your vacation was going when he started asking if I could get you out of the apartment tomorrow so he could have a surprise set up for you."

"Mom," she wasn't sure her voice was going to hold out as she offered the best version of the truth that she felt she had to give up. The truth that didn't have to involve Jess; as she still had no satisfaction to that end, she wasn't about to mention his name. Logan had been a surmountable issue between her and her mother; Jess was to remain a roadblock between them.

"He has no idea," she reiterated. "Which I thought was weird enough, but then it dawned on me that I had no idea what was really going on. If it wasn't for your father, whom I'm guessing you also lied to, I would have gone right over to your apartment in the morning to pick you up to go shoe shopping!"

"I didn't know how to tell you, or anyone," she admitted.

"Besides Lane?"

She knew that was going to come back to bite her. "I needed an unopinionated ride to the airport," she breathed.

"Where are you?" Lorelai cried in concern and frustration.

" California," she said, ready for disbelief even at the truth.

"So… where's Logan?"

" Toronto," she bit her lip.

"Oh, kid," she could practically hear her mother's head shaking. "What prompted the trip? Don't you have classes?"

"I just… I needed to get away, and with Logan on business, I thought," she sighed. "I thought I'd be back before anyone realized I was gone."

"Right, with a fiancé that thinks you hung the moon, a mother that requires speaking to you on a daily basis for stasis in her life, and grandparents that like to micro-manage your entire existence, I can see why you didn't think anyone would notice," she paused for a beat. "Though I'm getting the desire to take a break," she admitted.

"No, it's not like that, I just," she was struggling. Telling her mother the truth felt natural, but she knew there would be little to no understanding. "It was very spur of the moment."

"Okay," she said in distressed understanding. "I mean, it's not a crime, it's just, not like you. You've only ever fled the state once, and that was, well, it's not like you," she said again.

"I'm sorry," she said genuinely, her apology not fitting her actions as she'd described them to Lorelai, but sure now they were both thinking of her unconscious draw to Jess that had always been present in her. Like an ache in the bones.

"It's fine," she said, then allowed an uncomfortable silence to fill the line. "You let me go on and on about planning the wedding."

"You're right though," she assured her. "I've been putting it off."

"Are you sure something isn't wrong?"

She sat in one of the chairs next to the window that surrounded the table she never could assign a purpose to in hotel rooms. Something was wrong, it had to be. Why else would she have lost all sense of purpose and direction as soon as she saw his name on the spine of that book? Why else would she have been in the 'M' section, practically expecting to see it, time after time? Why else would she keep all these secrets?

"I'm fine," she managed.

"Well, if I were you, I'd call Logan. He's coming home tomorrow, to surprise you."

"Tomorrow?" she squeaked. His trip, at the shortest, he'd said would last through the end of this weekend—depending on how things went even longer. And coupled with his attitude, longer tended to be the norm.

"I don't like feeling sorry for him," she began. "I'm fine tolerating him, and even letting him grow slowly on me over the years as he provides me with things I want, like grandchildren and a fancy guest house to stay at my leisure on your property," she began listing her demands.

"Have you discussed these things with him?"

"It's implied," she could hear her mother's hurt wane as the jest began.

"We could always send him to the guest house when you visit," she suggested as if it were the future she'd been envisioning all along.

"Now there's an idea," she brightened. "But you'll call him?"

"I will call him," she promised. "And I'm sorry."

"So you've said. Just—be safe."

"I will. Bye, Mom," she held back the tears until after they'd hung up the line. She put the phone on the cradle gently, letting a few drops fall from her eyes as she watched the tide come in yet again, watching it build and waiting for her courage to do the same before she called Logan.

XXXX

Now she really wanted tamales.

She wondered how many more hours she'd have to sit here to prove that this house wasn't going to be a hotbed of activity, legal or otherwise, tonight. She checked the address he'd handed her in the bathroom she used as a make-shift office—like Fonzie. She smiled at the very idea that she had taken her cues from a make-believe greaser. Next time she went into the Hut, she'd have to give the jukebox a love tap and see if it sang for her.

It was the very same address; the house a bit less dilapidated than those around it. Not that anything could change the property values in this area of town; if you weren't a drug dealer or thug in general, it was in your best interest to house your valuables and park your car in a safer neighborhood, hopefully under lock and key so that people that lived in this area didn't get any ideas about pawn and chop shops.

Her father had every right to worry, she knew very well. Just being in this zip code, things could go from silent and boring to dangerous and lethal in a matter of seconds. Her directions were simply to get photos if possible—not to get 'involved', whatever that meant.

Her phone rang again, and she was ready to accept her father's offers of warm Mexican food and cheesy karaoke if it was still good, until she saw it wasn't her father that was calling.

"Checking up on me? You're really afraid I'd be the one to slack off?"

"Jesus, you're still there?"

"Well, I could have left after five minutes, but I really need the mall money," she giggled girlishly.

"What's going on?"

"Nada, zip, zilch, zero, with a side of boring," she filled him in. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"It's the right place," Logan assured her. "Maybe nothing is going down tonight."

"Going down? What is this, _Miami Vice_?"

"There's a scary image—you with a badge and a gun."

"Badge, yes, but I can handle a gun."

"Right," he said quietly, remembering perhaps that it was his own father that had been on the other end of her barrel at one time. "Anyway, maybe this was a bad idea. I'll still pay you for your time."

"You want me to leave now? I've only gone through one thermos of coffee, and two high scores on Tetris."

"Tetris?"

"I like to kick it old school," she informed him. "Girls had Game Boys, too, you know."

"No one's gone by, nothing?"

"One car, about an hour ago. Driver wasn't even speeding. I did get photos, but probably a waste of film."

"Did they see you?"

"I don't know," she furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"I just think maybe it's better if you called it a night."

"Look, as pretty as the scenery is here, I really don't want to have to come back. You seemed to really want this evidence," she reminded him. "I remember the word beg being used."

"I didn't beg," he chided.

"That's because I had mercy on you," she shot back.

"Whatever; just do whatever you want to do," he said and hung up.

"Men," she stuck her tongue out at her phone. "Can't live with them, can't strangle them with a phone cord," she put her phone back at her side and turned the radio up a little to block out her thoughts.

XXXX

The sound of his voice flooded her with warmth, as if he were in the room and pulling her in close to erase all her thoughts. She wanted to climb under the covers with him, forgetting all about California, Toronto, school, tulle, and family. Being with him was always just about him and her and being in the moment. It had been since the very first time they'd spoken alone.

"Your mom called," he said knowingly. "And here I thought I was growing on her."

"You are," she assured. "She just knows how much I hate surprises."

"You always like my surprises," he said, his voice filled with lust and longing. It'd been four days since he'd left her in bed, their last moments together as usual under the covers and private.

"Don't they need you there?"

"I put a rush on it. I knew about three days in that if I behaved, I could get back to you sooner, so," he sighed. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too," she said so easily she wasn't sure if it was a lie or the truth. "Are you sure you can come back early?"

"It's already set. It doesn't upset anything you had planned, does it?" he asked with genuine concern, which she appreciated.

"I—no, of course not. When do you get in, I can meet your plane," she offered.

"Go shoe shopping," he laughed. "I still have a surprise, that doesn't include me coming home early."

"At least tell me when to come home," she urged, already wondering what the next flight to Hartford would be.

"You take all the fun out of this, you know that, Ace?" he teased her.

" Logan," she protested from too far away.

"Sixish. I have one last morning meeting that I couldn't get out of, but then I'm out of there. It'll take a bit to set things up," he thought out loud, "but then I'm all yours."

All hers. This man, who despite his nature not to be tied down was always running toward her, was working his life around being with her. This man that had asked her to marry him, in the face of what his family had planned for him. This man.

"I can't wait," she said with earnest, meaning it if only as she desired his warm flesh against hers, to reassure her and snap her out of this haze she'd been in since he left. Guilt would wash away with time, if she got back on track right now.

"Me either," he said before whispering a few more words in parting, words of promise that passed only between them. Words that would give them both sweet dreams, the kind that lasted into the next day.

XXXX

Her last caller aside, this was going pretty much to plan. Stakeouts, while glamorized on television, often meant hours upon hours of fruitless labor. Not that sitting in a bucket seat drinking the last dregs of her coffee and tapping her nails against the steering wheel to the beat was labor, but it was billable. She could almost feel bad for charging Logan for this time, but then she remembered that he'd been rich to the point of being a spoiled brat and back his entire life, and that this was the waste of a perfectly good evening of a young, viable woman. She drained the very last of the thermos and tossed it into the back with a sigh. She'd have to pack more coffee next time, not to mention food.

Not quite buzzed enough on caffeine and nothing to do, she let her eyes relax over the view in front of her. Images blurred together slightly until her eyes immediately refocused on the mailbox in front of the house. She had before only seen the numbers, but even at this distance, she was able to see scrawl underneath. She picked up her telephoto lens and zoomed in as far as she could to bring it into clearer focus.

_Banks_.

"Banks?" she read aloud. "I think Logan is growing senile in his young age," she murmured. She snapped a few frames and scribbled _Banks -->__ Fitzpatrick?_ in her notepad, to check the connection at a later time, after tamales, a hot shower, clean sheets, and with a stable, trusty internet connection.

When her phone rang again, she just assumed it was Logan, calling to harass her more. "I am trying to work here, you know," she chastised her caller.

"Oh, sorry, I," came the stammered response of a very feminine voice.

"Rory?" she guessed.

"Yes, I didn't mean to interrupt your work, I just wanted to call and say thank you and that I'm leaving town tomorrow."

"You've changed your mind, then?" she asked, considering it wise based on Jess' words to her when she met him face to face.

"Yes. This was … anyway, I need to get back home to my life, but I wanted to thank you for everything you've done. I couldn't get a flight out until tomorrow morning, but I'd like to drop off payment for you before that."

Gone immediately was her eight hours of sleep. Lord knows how long she'd sit in her car that evening. "Sure, when's your flight?"

"Eight-oh-five. Shall we say sixish?"

"Sixish," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which admittedly wasn't much. But money owed was money gained.

"I know, it's not my choice of waking hour either," Rory laughed easily.

"Hey, mine is not to reason why," she answered back.

"Thanks, Veronica. Truly. For everything."

"You're welcome. I hope everything's worked out for you, then?"

"Yeah. I think so," she said with fair degree of certainty. "I'll let you get back to work."

"Yeah, work," she said as she closed her phone, holding it in her hand for a moment. Crisis averted. Just as her entire body flew into crisis mode.

Her front passenger side door cracked open, allowing entrance to a crouched down form. She raised her hand that still encased her cell phone, wondered if she could throw it hard enough to cause a concussion, when her intruder smirked and pointed to the radio.

"I never identified with this song."

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"I mean, it's one thing if your mama don't dance," he mused. "But for your daddy not to rock and roll?" he stroked his chin with one hand. "What are they, Amish?"

"You came all the way here to ask me that particular question?" she asked, clearly enraged.

"Your daddy rocks and rolls, right?" he smirked. "At least I got that impression the few times he glowered at me."

"My father is a man of many talents," she afforded an answer.

"Like father like daughter," he nodded as he looked over at the house in question.

"So, I have a question for you," she handed the notepad to him. "Who is Banks?"

"That's what your very generous hourly rate is earning you tonight. I have a few unanswered questions of my own," he said cryptically. "Here," he pulled something out of the backpack he had stowed between his legs on the floorboard.

She took the thermos from him, filled with hot, fresh coffee. She looked to him as he sat crouched down in her car, his eyes never leaving the still house. When she didn't say anything for a moment, he glanced her way.

"What?"

"Nothing," she smiled and poured the cup full, offering it to him. He frowned until she held the container up to her lips. "Unless you're worried about cooties?"

A gleam came to his eyes. "Are you?"

"I think I'm safe," she took a drink as her cell phone rang again. She groaned and glared at it. Her caller ID listed as 'restricted'. Not really an ignorable message in her world or line of work.

"Hello?"

"Veronica Mars?"

"Speaking," she said hesitantly.

"This is Jess Mariano. Is this a bad time?"

"No, what can I do for you?" she asked, thinking she'd heard the last of that name, at least until he hit the bestseller list at some point in the future.

"You left the book here," he said without much emotion in his voice. She winced, wondering how she would explain its absence in the morning when Rory came to pay. "I read over her comments," he continued.

"All of them?"

"I'm a fast reader," he said with a faint laugh.

"There was almost as much in the margins as there was on the pages."

"I know. It's something we did," he trailed off.

"Like George Bernard Shaw and Mrs. Patrick Campbell," she mused.

This earned her a look of concern from Logan and an elongated pause from Jess. "Romance is lost on men," she informed both of them.

"I want to see her."

"Okay, maybe I was wrong," she conceded at the desperation in his voice.

"Does she still want to see me?" he demanded.

"I," she fumbled, suddenly sure that she didn't have what it took to juggle all the baggage that was left between these two people. It was one thing to reunite long, lost lovers or be the go between in 'you owe me' situations, but what did these two owe each other that wasn't unspeakable and unending if not severed? She looked to Logan, wondering if her life would really be better in a few months when school didn't force them in close enough proximity to remind them they still owed each other whatever they decided to ask of the other. Proximity just breeds friction, and as his hand bumped her knee while reaching for her Game Boy, pangs of nostalgia shot through her.

"Did you tell her I didn't want to see her?" he asked.

"No, I didn't."

"So, you can arrange this? Which hotel is she at? I assume she's alone," he fished for information, things he hadn't seemed to care outwardly about when last they met.

"Slow down there, Zippy," she sought time to think. Eight-oh-five was stuck in her head. "I need to run this past her; I'll call you in the morning. Do yourself a favor and answer your damn phone?" she checked.

"I'll answer."

"And save me the trouble of changing your mind again?"

"I have to talk to her."

"Okay. I'll see what I can do," she promised.

"Ronnie," Logan had dropped the gaming system onto the floor, as he hissed her name. He grabbed her arm to get her attention, the sudden jolt into her current surroundings nearly making her drop the phone.

"What?" she yelped as he pointed toward the house that now had a car parked outside of it. "Ohmigod, I have to go," she flipped her phone shut and picked up her camera, leaning across Logan to start snapping fast-action shots. First a man in a sleeveless flannel shirt, the look circa 1993, and jeans stepped out the drivers' side, grounding out a cigarette burned down to the filter with his boot. By the time he got around to the passenger side door, a tall brunette was emerging.

"Is that…?" Veronica turned her head slightly, as Logan's was only inches from her now. She suddenly realized that she had invaded more than his personal space as she was half-laying on top of him in effort to get a better angle.

He simply nodded, looking at her with eyes that promised to be filled with explanation as the night might never come to an end for her.


	5. Cutting It Close

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Cutting It Close

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Veronica looked at the digital clock display on the dashboard and groaned inwardly. Just from the few meetings she'd had with Rory Gilmore, she'd gained the impression that even prompt didn't do her justice. If she had an eight-oh-five flight, that girl would normally be at the terminal at the recommended two hours before departure, and her agreeing to meet at six and risking being only an hour and a half early for her flight was a major concession. She didn't have enough wiggle room to obey traffic laws.

Luckily her passenger had no issue with staying up all night or with the break-neck speed with which she was steering them toward Mars Investigations.

In fact, Logan hadn't said a word to her in an hour. She kept glancing his way, wanting to ask so many questions that she didn't even know where to start. Did he know his fuck buddy shared a house with one of the Fitzpatricks? Was he privy to whatever scam Kendall, or should she say Priscilla, was running? Was he truly surprised to see her with another man, or just one that had tried to frame him for murder?

It wasn't a comfortable silence they shared, but one they were so used to that she found herself breathing easier despite all the different directions she was being pulled in right at that moment. She wondered if he was at all relieved to be in her presence as well. She looked to him one last time, to see him looking at the front door to her dad's office and keeping all his questions in as well.

"So, maybe you should wait in the car," she tried diplomacy as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"I guess that list of who's not ashamed to be seen with me has dwindled down to Dick," he waxed.

She let out a sigh. "It's just, it's business, and I'll just be gone a minute. You waiting here," she stopped when her words started sounding as trite to her as they did to him.

"I got it," he nodded. "I'll be a good little boy," he snarked.

"We'll talk when I get back."

"Does that mean you have answers for me? Because the only things Kendall ever told me was how big I was and how much harder she wanted it," he snipped.

Veronica closed her eyes. "Just, wait here."

With that she slammed her car door and moved to face the least of all evils; a harried, confused woman who came here looking for answers and was leaving with more questions that she arrived with.

XXXX

It was five after six as she checked her watch for the fiftieth time, still standing in the hallway that led to the Mars Investigations office. If she left now she'd still have time to get coffee and read most of the paper before she had to board. Or, pretend to read the paper and come up with alternate versions of what she'd been doing while Logan was in Toronto, all versions including as much alone time as she could so she'd drag down as few people as possible with her lies.

"Sorry I'm late," came the cheerful voice of the tiny blonde that was flying toward her. "I got caught up in something unexpected," she already had her keys out and was unlocking the door. "I can give you a short cut to the airport, if you want."

"Oh, no, no, it's fine. Really."

"Well, come on in," Veronica held open the door for her to walk through. "Can I get you something? Coffee, donut, pause button?"

"What?"

"It's just, you seemed like your decision to leave was so sudden. Are you sure you got all the answers you were looking for?"

"I have all the answers I need," she said, wholly unconvincingly. "I have to get home, and that's just how it is."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to him?" Veronica asked as she took the cash Rory handed to her.

"Look, you didn't say how it went with Jess, but I'm guessing that your silence meant he didn't want to talk to me. Not to mention that he would have found me if he had something to say—I know that from experience. I thought with the book," she bit her lip. "Well, I guess that was all he had to say, and I have someone at home who has many things to say to me, who loves me and has always been able to tell me that while looking me in the eye and making me believe him," she tried to keep her voice steady.

Veronica couldn't get Jess' last words to her out of her head. She'd promised him to run the idea of seeing him by her, and evidently Rory wasn't into the subtle when it came to him.

"If you can just put off your flight, two hours, I can arrange a meeting," she blurted out.

"I… I can't," Rory said, shaking her head and stuttering.

"You came all this way based on a novel. Don't you really want to see how it turns out?"

Rory checked her watch and looked at Veronica. "I told him it didn't matter. I told him I wouldn't do this anymore," she sounded pained.

"But you are, for whatever reason. It doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. One word from you, that's all it takes."

An eternity passed as she considered the option. If she took the next flight, she'd miss welcoming her fiancé home, miss his surprise, miss the life that was unfolding before her. If she took her scheduled flight, she miss knowing what it was all for.

"I really have to go. Thanks again, for all your help," she closed her purse and turned to the door. As she reached the threshold of the place she'd come for help, she turned and looked at Veronica, who was already pulling out her cell phone.

"If you talk to him," she began hesitantly, "tell him for whatever it's worth, he still has that part of me."

Veronica nodded and smiled softly as Rory clutched her purse toward her and went to meet her no-doubt waiting cab. She scrolled down her cell memory and waited for a groggy voice to answer.

"American Airlines, flight 317, departs at eight-oh-five," she croaked out.

"What?"

"If you want to see her, you have to be the one to stop her from going back."

"She's leaving today?"

"In an hour and forty-five minutes to be exact. I'd hurry."

"Right. Thanks."

"No thanks necessary," she told him as she hung up and hoped he made it in time.

XXXX

"What are you doing here?"

"Sunbathing. I heard you can't get the damaging effects if you do it at dawn," Logan answered as his one arm remained thrown across his eyes.

"Why are you on my daughter's car, and where is she?"

"She's at work. Does the state know you're openly defying child labor laws?"

"Are you the reason she was out all night?" Keith demanded.

"Dad," Veronica came rushing out the main entrance. "I can explain."

"I thought you two had broken up, and for an excellent reason," he glowered at Logan, who had sat up to watch the exchange.

"I told you to stay in the car," she admonished.

He shrugged. "I like to play fast and loose with the rules."

"Which is why my face looks like this," Keith drew her attention back to him.

"We were studying," she lied.

"All night?"

"Don't you remember your youth? Pulling all-nighters to best that annoying kid that always gets a hundred and ten percent and ruins the curve for everyone?"

"You are that annoying kid," Keith pointed out. "Which is why I can't imagine you'd risk doing badly on a test by staying up all night when you're in line for the Kane scholarship."

"Not if Celeste has her way," Logan muttered.

"Actually, they did a study that proved you perform better if you take the test in the state of mind you were in while studying. So, since we were exhausted while we studied, we'd actually do worse if we were well rested for the exam. Now, if you'll excuse us, we should get to the school to do a last minute cram. You don't want us to waste all the work we've done, do you?"

"Why did you come here?"

She held up her phone and car charger. "I left it my charger here. I had it on all night, in case you called. I assumed you trusted me, since you never called," she pushed it.

Keith surveyed her, then looked to Logan, who grinned. "I expect to have that hundred and ten percent paper hanging on my refrigerator by the end of the week," he stepped forward to kiss her forehead.

"Cross my heart," she said as he pulled back.

"I guess I should go work since I'm here," he succumbed. "Logan," he nodded.

"Mr. Cleaver," Logan slid off the hood.

Once Keith had disappeared behind the door, Veronica moved to smack the back of his head. "I work alone," she chided him.

"Did I overstep? I have such a problem with that, knowing when to meddle, when to stay quiet," he mumbled to himself.

"Just, get in the car, okay?" she pointed.

"We aren't actually going to school, are we?" he asked with incredulity.

"What do I look like, a Girl Scout?" she pffed.

"No, but I bet you'd look really just darling in one of those little green uniforms," he sighed and put one hand to his heart.

"Dream on," was her only retort as she started the car back up and headed toward the next logical destination.

XXXX

"Now boarding all rows for flight 317 to Hartford, Connecticut," came the loud voice over the intercom.

She sat, ticket in hand, staring at it and wondering if she were doing the right thing. She couldn't call her mother and ask, in fact she could ask for no advice from anyone in her life. No one could understand this draw she had to Jess; even she didn't understand it. She'd tried to convince herself time and again that the only way to put him behind her was to move on with her life and let him do the same.

And she had. Now her life, the one that was filled with things he abhorred and would never in three lifetimes be able to afford her, was calling. All she had to do was hand her ticket to the friendly gate agent, take her seat, and by the end of the day she'd be in Logan's arms listening to how much he'd missed her, how she was more beautiful than he remembered, and how he didn't ever want to leave her again.

Yet here she sat.

It wasn't that she doubted Logan. He'd never lied to her, and she did love being with him. He challenged her, he made her laugh, and he made her feel unbelievably sexy. When he touched her, when he whispered superlatives at her, she knew he was talking from experience, and she felt truly singled out. Cherished.

She hated the nagging part of her mind that wondered if it would have been even better with Jess.

She was getting on that plane. She picked up her carry on and opened it to double check that she had her book and to pull her engagement ring out of its place of safe keeping she'd tucked it into the last two days. She hadn't felt right wearing it while in hot pursuit of another man.

She saw her ring box, but no book. Her eyes widened as she went over in her head giving it to but never receiving it from Veronica. She swore inwardly, wondering how she'd replace it. It'd been a single copy, and she'd already put all her thoughts down in the margins, all the things she wanted to ask him, all the things she remembered herself….

As they called for final boarding, she wondered if it was for the best. It was gone, lost to Neptune the same as him. It's not like her name was written on the book, no one who came upon it would know the significance of her handwriting or how unfinished their story really was.

"Aren't you usually on the plane by now, conning the stewardesses into a quick cup of coffee before take off?" came the voice from just over her left shoulder.

She turned to face him for the first time in over a year, his voice so familiar that images of his face flashed through her mind before she got turned around far enough to see him standing there before her.

"Jess," she breathed in. "What are you doing here?"

He held up his newly purchased ticket—the only way he could get to her gate since new security measures had been passed to make once-romantic gestures of following someone to the airport and stopping them from boarding a very expensive notion. He supposed he should have been happy that the flight hadn't been filled.

"You're going home?" she asked, standing up next to him.

"I am home," he said softly.

"So," she looked down for a beat. "What are you doing here?"

"I was gonna ask you the same question," he readjusted the strap on his messenger bag and stood up straighter.

"I read your book," she replied honestly, unable to lie anymore. At least, that's what she told herself. Was it she could lie to everyone but him?

"I thought about sending you a copy," he began. "I wasn't sure you'd want it."

"It was…," she began, but the gate attendant announced final boarding call for the second and final time. "I should go."

"Why did you come here?" he asked, wanting to physically hold her back, but settling for letting his words do it.

"I read the book, and I just thought," she shook her head. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You thought it was about you," he pulled her lost copy of his book out of his bag and held it out for her to see.

"How did you…Veronica."

"That's quite a sleuth you hired," he smirked.

"No one knew where you were," she said softly. "It's like you didn't want anyone to find you."

"I wouldn't say didn't want, more like not expecting anyone to try," he took a deep breath.

"Jess," she pleaded with him to make this decision easier for her, knowing at the same time that he couldn't and furthermore didn't want to.

"Do you have to go now, or can you stay awhile?"

Her brain was screaming that she had to get on that plane, but as loud as it was, her lips paid no heed. "I have a little while," she said, moving to follow him away from the gate and through a sea of people that were caught between where they had to go and where they wanted to be.


	6. Unresolved Issues

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Unresolved Issues

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

AN: took a while coming, but I hope it lives up to the wait. It came out fast, so I'm hoping the next chapter will come fast as well….

She typed a few bits of information into the search engine and tapped her fingers lightly on the keys as it told her to wait patiently. How patient were you supposed to be while you skipped out on two tests and lunch with your best friend all while praying that your dad wouldn't come home during his workday for any number of reasons to catch you with your ex-boyfriend in your bedroom?

The cost of finding the truth really had no monetary value. Just like distracting the boy who grew restless after five seconds of peace and quiet and had taken to scanning her shelves that contained pictures of her and Lilly from their youth. Ridiculous pictures, capturing moments of divine silliness; not of big occasions, but all of defining moments. Now everything she could remember about Lilly seemed like defining moments. Things to cherish.

"So, what made you think to watch that house?" she asked, trying not to clear her throat. That would be too obvious a distraction.

"If you're asking if she said something suspicious while we were together, let me assure you that she's not the chatty type. Five seconds after we're done, I'm in the shower and she's out the door."

She cringed as it told her to remain patiently waiting. As if. "How romantic."

He looked at her, his neck craned as his body remained turned toward the photos. "I wasn't looking for romance."

She bit her lip and stared at the screen, which had finally given her a search result. "Well, save for being an adulteress, a pedophile, and a general bitch, there's nothing major on her record under Priscilla Banks. Couple of speeding tickets, some underage drinking citations—your run-of-the-mill bad girl wanna-be wrap sheet."

"Oh, she is a wanna-be all right," he smirked knowingly. "And I was eighteen."

"Save it for the judge," she glared at him and tapped her fingers on the keyboard again, trying to think of the next step.

"So, nothing?" he asked, his tone lacking the jackassyness that he loved to impart upon her.

"Nothing yet," she amended.

"I just thought, if we could find out who killed Felix…," he lost the rest of his thought in a void that she couldn't quite get the feel of. There was somewhere he could go, in a moment's notice, where no one else could touch him. He was in her room, but so far away.

"You were acquitted," she said softly, knowing full well that wasn't the point.

"My father could be found not guilty," he didn't look directly at her, and she knew if he had, she'd have burst into tears right then and there.

"He won't."

She said it with the certainty that she'd had since the night she'd discovered it was Aaron Echolls that killed her best friend. She was more than certain enough to convince twelve adults, even those who loved him in every single crappy movie he ever made. He wasn't a superhero in real life; he was more like a soap opera villain.

"When I found out he came after you," he looked to the floor.

"It was a bad night for everyone," she said quickly, words flying up her throat and out before she could make her eyes fall away from him. They'd never talked about why he was standing on the cusp of the bridge that his mother jumped to her death from or the fact that his father had locked her in a freezer and set fire to let her burn to death if she didn't run out of air first.

She's just been so relieved to find him at her door at the end of the night, as bloody and beaten as he was.

"Would you have told me?" he asked.

"Told you what?" she managed, her voice not even a whisper.

"If Lilly had told you," he looked up.

"I… I don't know."

He nodded.

" Logan, I," she frowned, not having words to help what was hurting him. There was too much, and she'd never been the source of the worst of it.

"Don't mind him. He's just the screwed-up rich kid," he mumbled with an odd grin pasted on his face and picked up a picture of her and Lilly the last year they went trick or treating. "This one's my favorite. It's like what should be in the dictionary when you look up ironic."

She had been a devil and Lilly an angel.

"I know," she smiled at the image he held up. She opened her mouth to say something else, about how even as an angel Lilly had made grown men stop in the middle of the street to stare, but before she could form words, she heard keys rattling in the front door.

She shut her laptop and moved quickly to snag the clothing on his elbow, pulling him in the blink of an eye into her closet and shutting the door.

"Veronica."

"Shh," she admonished, holding a finger up to her lips. "D-A-D," she mouthed.

He nodded and looked down at her as she fidgeted in the swarm of clothes and other belongings that boxed them in so tightly. There was no wiggle room, making for having personal space next to impossible. In the face of avoidance, he moved so that he was standing behind her, pulling her back in close to his chest so they took up the space of just one.

It only made sense to lean back into him. If she was more comfortable, she was able to focus more intently on the sounds her father was making as he moved from the kitchen to the bathroom. She hoped he wasn't feeling sick—sneaking Logan out would be a much trickier prospect than it sounded with a PI for a father, under the weather or not.

"My car," he breathed in her ear, making the skin prickle all the way down her neck, and causing the hairs on the nape of her neck to stand at attention. Her whole body was on full alert.

She shook her head and turned her ear to his shoulder. "He'd be looking for mine. He saw us in mine earlier."

It'd been her idea to go straight to his house to change out cars. She had no idea where their chase was going to lead them, but for that day it was easier not to be so easily spotted. To use her tracking software, she had to be either at home or her dad's office—and a work day usually involved many hours spent at his place of work. She wondered how long this pit stop was going to be as she heard him come out of the bathroom and back down the hall. Surely it'd been at least two minutes already—and if he'd come all the way home to use the bathroom, half of Neptune must have been having septic problems at once.

Footsteps at this end of the hall ended in two possibilities. Only karma would lead to his opening her door, and clearly she'd been backing up some bad ju ju points. Her father was entering her bedroom, moving like any parent would that wasn't afraid of being found out during his snooping, as he went directly for what he seemed to want, knowing exactly where to find it.

Logan's arms tightened around hers, holding her so close that she could feel his heart beating against her shoulder blade, as if he anticipated her to take off halfway through their seven minutes in heaven. She wanted to bolt, that was for sure, but for a moment she wasn't sure if it was because she wanted to catch her father red handed or if it was because of the feeling of being turned from a solid into a liquid in his arms.

She heard her father hum under his breath, and the faint rustling of paper she'd left on her desk. Two drawers opened, one closed immediately, and she prayed this wouldn't be a full-room search. A girl has to have a few secrets, and thus, a few secret hiding places. Luckily she was much more inventive than using her own desk as proper storage. If she knew her father, he went for the top drawer first, meaning he had found in the second her camera. She heard two test clicks, and it dawned on her. His must have for whatever reason been out of service, and the first place he knew to find one as good as his was here.

He left her room as soon as he came, and a minute later she heard the keys relock the front door.

And yet, she remained bolted in place in these arms that were so good at holding her. There were so few places she found comfort in her world.

"I think he's gone."

She nodded, and he half turned her by sheer force of his hands on her arms. She looked straight ahead, forcing her eyes up slowly inch by inch. She only got as far as his Adam's apple before he spoke.

"What are we doing?"

"We," she shuddered as her better sense got a hold of her. "We should come out of the closet. He's gone."

"Our seven minutes isn't up yet," he leaned down, catching her off guard. Not that his kisses had ever come at appropriate times. They were always needful, so created in moments that she didn't even realize they were having until she stumbled away from him, out of breath and both lips swelled with exertion.

She grabbed onto his shirt, as if she might fall backwards through her own closet door if she let go. His arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her up to him, giving her the feeling of weightlessness as she let herself get carried away. Out of breath, she leaned her forehead against his, and she took a deep, shaky breath in, which invited in the world around them once again. Their reason for being here. The images of him and Kendall post-coitus. The reasons why she had to end it last summer.

How everything falls apart so completely with them.

"I'm sorry," she backed up, her hand reaching for the way out.

He smirked. "Did I get your halo dirty?"

She looked down. "Surely you of all people don't think I'm so angelic."

She was standing in her own room, looking at him in the shadows of her clothes, his feet mixed in with her shoes. So out of place, so blended into her life as he'd once been.

"You'd be surprised."

He had lived with the devil, she supposed, and the heartbreak that he might have felt when she told him that being with him was too much right then for the both of them surely couldn't top finding out that his girlfriend had been killed by his father. They'd both experienced worse heartache than the other could ever cause. She reminded herself of that fact every time she saw him….

"We should get going. There's one more place I think we should try today, before we let this rest."

"You think it's worth it?"

She closed her eyes for a moment as she thought about the question. Her spine was still hot from where his hands had been. Anything that put his mind at ease, if it was her doing directly or not, was worth it.

"Yeah. Come on, I think we need to go pay Cliff a visit," she said, moving to check her drawer to find a missing camera and distracting herself as he climbed out of their secret hiding place.

"Your chariot awaits," he said as he held her bedroom door open. She moved through it without checking to see if he put the picture back on her shelf.

XXXX

She'd been silent in the car. Holding her breath, trying not to smile too much or blush—mainly accomplished by not making direct eye contact and doing her best not to brush against him as he shifted the gears and steered them to this diner. She followed him to a back corner booth that he slid into like an old armchair.

It was more than apparent the staff knew him here; the waitress brought two coffee cups within five minutes of their arrival, leaving the carafe and turning only to Rory to ask her what else she'd be having. She'd started off with just the coffee, black, but in the course of the few hours they'd been sitting at the table there were a few plates scattered with crumbs of pie crust and hard tips of French fries that no one ever eats, thus exiling them to the goopy remains of an overly vigorous ketchup pour.

It was easier than it should have been, really, to sit and talk with him for that long. Especially considering they didn't mention Stars Hollow, school, his book, or real life really at all. Some pop culture things—the break up of bands they'd both enjoyed, movies that had come into their constant rotation, books from new authors other than him that changed their perspectives, their world views, and sometimes the shift of their focus. He alluded to other women—though she was careful not to mention Logan—almost as if he were telling a story about someone else, or if it was a second hand piece of information as he explained why he was dragged to a certain showing of what might have been considered a chick flick, but had some underlying meaning that he thought was so telling of their generation.

"I don't think we're that transitory," she shook her head passionately, and he poured the remains of the carafe into her cup. "Just because we're seekers doesn't mean we won't find what we're searching for."

"That's what Jane tried to argue, too, but you have to look at it this way. We can't look into the future and see what we're going to stick with in the long run; up onto this point, we're moving from thing to thing, getting more and more education, formal or not, in so many different areas, and then we don't transfer that to the next move. We're constantly trying on new lives, seeing what we like better. If we keep going, no way are we going to retire from any company with thirty years experience, like some of our grandparents did," he pointed out.

"Every experience you ever have, you bring everything you've ever done with you. Just because they don't seem to match on the surface, that doesn't mean you aren't building on something. Even if it's just a feeling."

He shrugged. "Feelings are transitory as well. It's like all the people that say they do things because they feel good. Just because it feels good doesn't make it right."

"And if something feels bad, it doesn't mean it's wrong?" she qualified.

"Exactly. Sometimes we do things we don't like."

"But that means you're doing it for a cause, for a purpose. To put you on a path."

"That may or may not change in six to nine months."

She shook her head. "You're impossible."

He smirked. "I try."

He took a sip of coffee and looked at her the way only he had—his eyes warning her of a shift that was coming, a question he was about to ask. Something deliberate to ease his mind, even if it stalled hers.

"What?" she asked, putting her own cup down, but keeping her hands around the warmth that still emanated through the ceramic.

A half smile played at the corner of his lips. "It's nothing, it's just," he cleared his throat. "You were at the airport, and I assume someone," he said with a lilt, not wanting to know or necessarily remind her either, "was going to be on the other end to pick you up. Should you put a call in to warn them?"

She looked into the dregs of her cup. "In a while. The flight takes hours."

"Look at your watch," he said gently.

Her eyes widened—she had no idea they'd been sitting there that long. She dug a hand into her purse to extract her cell, leaving her purse on her seat without a thought. "I'll, uh, be right back," she promised as she slipped back toward the small hallway leading to the bathrooms.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Oooh, are you on one of the air phones? I've always wanted to be on a flight and HAVE to use one. Do you feel really important?"

"Mom," she hesitated and peered around the corner to see Jess conversing with the waitress who used the intermission to clear plates. "I'm, um, not on the plane."

"You're here already? Did you get an earlier flight? I thought you were on the first one of the day!"

"I was, supposed to be, anyhow," she swallowed.

"Oh. Did you get bumped?"

"No. I got distracted."

"Distracted?"

"Yes."

"In the airport?"

"Yes."

"You got distracted in the airport, from getting on the plane?"

"I said yes!"

"Rory," she let out a tone of absurdity. "Come on. What happened?"

"I was at my gate, they were calling out the last call, and I was just sitting there, staring at my ticket."

"So, your ticket distracted you?"

"Not exactly."

"Did you have to run to the bathroom? Did you get sick?"

"No."

"Then I'm out of reasons why you'd," she began, but got cut off.

"Jess showed up."

The silence spoke volumes. Disappointment, disapproval, disdain; they were all present.

"Mom?"

"I think I'm missing a step."

"One or two," she admitted.

"Care to fill me in?"

"I came out here, specifically, because I'd read this book."

"What book?"

"Jess' book."

"Jess wrote a book?"

"Yep."

"Jess Mariano, slacker-extraordinaire, wrote a book?"

"He wasn't a slacker. And yes."

"A whole book?"

"Mom, focus."

"Right. So, you read his book, and you went to California."

"I don't even know why. Logan was going away again, and I just needed to get away from campus. It seemed like good timing."

"You told me you were swamped."

"I was—am, really. I don't know why I did it. I didn't think a lot, I just went."

"And you met up with Jess."

"No. Not at first. I looked for him, but I didn't see him until he showed up at the airport."

"He was just strolling through the airport?"

"I'm pretty sure the private investigator I hired to find him tipped him off. She seemed to find it odd that I didn't want to see him after she found him."

"Private investigator? You used Logan's money to hire a private investigator to find your ex-boyfriend that treated you like crap and took off years ago?"

"I didn't use Logan's money! I used my own money."

"Since when you have that kind of money to burn?"

"It was worth it," she said quietly.

"Oh, Rory, come on. What are you doing?"

"I don't know," she said, as if it were an answer.

"Well, you better figure it out soon, kid, because I'm not going over to your apartment to inform Logan that you won't be home because you're in California to visit Jess for unknown reasons," she said plaintively.

"I didn't call you to get you to explain it to Logan."

"You want me to tell you it's okay?"

"I didn't call for approval, either. I knew you wouldn't approve."

"Then why did you call?"

"So you wouldn't worry when I didn't get off the plane."

She let out a strangled laugh. "Not going to happen. You're with Jess, so right there, I have reason to worry."

"No, it's not. I'm fine. We're sitting and talking, and I'm laughing more than I have in months," she defended.

"But is it real?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you getting along so famously after discussing why he left, what good reason he could have possibly had for breaking your heart, the fact that you have a fiancée waiting for you at the apartment that you have been sharing? Is that what's happening?"

"Not exactly."

She let out a sigh. "Fine. Look. Just, be smart about this. Call Logan. Talk to Jess before you come home—really talk to him. You can't run off every few years to work out unresolved issues."

"I know," she said, firmly, as if she not only knew, but she planned all along just to work out old, unresolved issues.

"And call me, if you need anything. Plane fare, a ride, reality," she offered.

"I will. And I had to do this."

"I know. Good luck."

She closed her phone, drew a breath, and took a step toward the table she'd come from. She considered calling Logan now, but her stomach tightened as her rational mind told her that he was probably still wrapped up in meetings, not yet even on his way back home. A much more honest inner voice pointed out that she might have more to tell him later; as she was about to go force her hand and make something happen.

She just wished she knew what that was.

Putting this moment off had served her well, or well enough, in terms of coping with what had happened between them. All the almosts, all the could have beens, all the things they were never able to say or make the other hear…. It'd caused her pain, and she'd spent too many years trying to pretend that it didn't matter what he was thinking or doing or if his abrupt farewells should have been kept as such.

Was that all they were? She looked at him, as he took out a pen and started making some notes on a napkin and was instantly wrapped up in his own thoughts, spurred suddenly with some passionate idea as he often was, and knew that wasn't all they were. If that was the case, she wouldn't have come to California, and he wouldn't have prevented her from leaving.

She sat down gingerly in her seat, as he looked up from his scribbling, so furious that she was shocked he hadn't torn the paper to shreds.

"So," he said, more of a question, unsure as to how to proceed.

She made the decision for him.

"Why did you leave me?"


	7. Honey Don't Think

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Honey Don't Think

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Jess leaned forward, his elbows landing midway across the table and clasped his hands together. He covered his mouth with his hands and looked at her. He seemed to be evaluating her question instead of formulating a response.

"Rory."

"I'm in love with someone else," she blurted out, afraid he'd touch her and make her forget.

He nodded. "Is that who you just called?"

She shook her head. "He's … out of town."

"So are you."

She nodded. "It's complicated."

"Meaning he doesn't know you're here?"

"Meaning… we're engaged."

He leaned back against the booth. "Damn it, Rory."

"What?"

He let out a laugh. "Why are you even here?"

"I," she stammered. This was the part she was afraid of, the part where he'd want answers from her in return. The part where he would evade answering things he didn't want to deal with by confusing her. "I read your book."

"It's called fiction."

"Jess," she balled her fingers up in fists in her lap. "Is that all you have to say?"

He finished the last of the drink in his glass and slid out his side of the booth and into hers. He slipped his arm around her shoulders. She turned her chin down demurely as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Does it matter?"

She closed her eyes. It was a simple question, but it didn't make it any easier to answer.

"Come on, Rory. Does it matter?"

"Yes," she admitted, as if he were ripping it from her throat.

She didn't push him away like she knew she should; telling herself that she was simply waiting for him to continue. It'd been too many years since she'd been that close to him. She could smell his aftershave, which seemed to have not changed while they'd been apart.

He pulled back slowly, his face remaining close to hers. A fraction of an inch would have turned the moment into flashes of heat and passion. "We should set some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" she frowned.

"We only meet here. In public. Never in your hotel room or at my place. I can't make you tell him, but I am not going to let you do this your way because I get the feeling you don't have a plan. If you're looking to end things with him," he shook his head. "That's one thing. But I'm not going to be your excuse."

"That's not what this is about."

He shrugged. "Like I said. Ground rules."

"Fine. We can meet here."

"How long are you staying?"

She shrugged. "Not long. How long can you stay today?"

He checked his watch. "I've stayed too long already. I have an appointment."

"A date?"

He paused. "An appointment. You okay getting home?"

She reached out and touched his arm as he got up to leave. "When can we meet again?"

"Ah," he ran a hand through his hair. "Tomorrow for breakfast?"

She nodded. "We'll meet here, ready to talk."

"If all goes well, you can be on a plane back to your fiancé tomorrow night."

He leaned in to kiss her cheek, jolting her into agreeing. "Right."

They were both on their feet, though she felt unstable enough to put her hands on the edge of the table and lean forward slightly. A waitress came by with a loaded tray, making the normally narrow aisle way impassable. He moved his hands to her hips and leaned in to her, allowing room for the third and much more mobile woman to pass by them, leaving in her wake a very charged pair. She'd felt as if raw tension passed from his hands through her clothing, making the bones of her hips ache for him. She wasn't sure what might happen if they ever made love, but she was sure it would be a life event. Maybe not something they'd be allowed to come to think of as commonplace, but something that ripped their lives open in a way they'd cherish for all time.

She cocked her head to the side, to see if he were suffering the same effects, but he didn't show it if he was. He merely straightened up and threw down more than enough money to cover both of their orders, nodding to her quickly before pulling his jacket lapel up a little and walking out onto the streets of Neptune. Rory looked around the diner, wondering how she was going to fill the hours between now and breakfast without going crazy.

XXXX

Veronica was not amused.

Clearly she wasn't getting rid of Logan with any 'save you the trouble and time' song and dance. She'd offered to take care of the angle she needed to work with Cliff alone, letting him get back to his busy life of playboying at the mansion or whatever it is he preferred to do in his alone time—things she reminded herself she didn't have any interest in whatsoever—and she'd let him know if anything turned up.

He only reminded her that he was her ride and asked when to turn.

She hated helpful men. Not only was he sticking around just to make her even more fidgety than she already was thanks to their little encounter in her bedroom closet, but now she might have to figure him into the story she'd have to feed Cliff. She supposed somewhere in his heart he believed he was doing the right thing by tagging along and lending some sort of support, if only moral.

But when had he ever let his heart or morality be his guide?

Cliff stepped out of the interrogation room and closed the door soundly shut behind him, holding the knob tightly in his fist as his arm bent across his back.

"Hey, Ronnie—I'm a little busy. Can we scratch each other later?"

"Aww, Cliff, baby, don't be that way," she smiled coyly, causing Logan to look at her in a brief moment of surprise. "You know you're always happy to play my games."

"I'm sure it'll be a slap and tickle fest to play a pre-op transgendered hooker on the phone for you, I have a big hush-hush case in there, and I'm gonna have to do a lot of damage control. Some people aren't aware that public office and underage girls don't mix."

She raised an eyebrow. "Anything I can do to help? A little alluring action, perhaps? Getting it caught on tape usually helps with the convincing part of it."

"Not sure your boyfriend's too keen on the idea," Cliff nodded to Logan. "Give me a call later, you have my card."

"Please. You know I have you on speed dial," she tapped his shoulder lightly with an open palm. "But honestly, it's just one tiny favor. A mere question. Between you and me."

"And your boyfriend."

"And, him," she glanced begrudgingly at Logan.

Cliff sighed. "Fine, but make it quick. If I time this hallway jaunt right, I can make him think I've been getting pressure to crack him."

"That's my boy. I'm interested in any cases you might have covered for a Priscilla Banks. She wasn't into the money, and she was heavy into the trouble. Probably about five years or so back?"

"Rings a bell. I see a long line of juvenile delinquents," he rubbed his mouth with his hand. "I'll give it a look and get back to you. And specific details you're looking for?"

"Just details, past police reports."

"Confidential information?"

"I just offered myself up to be underage meat for your lecherous political figure," she reminded. "I won't go into all the actual favors you do owe me on," she pressed none-too-lightly.

"Riiight," he cleared his throat and glanced at Logan once more. "I should get back in there. I'll be in touch."

She smiled and nodded as he slipped back in the door, careful not to show the other inhabitant of the room. She turned to face Logan, who was now leaning against the wall and watching her intently.

"What?"

"I knew you had your slippery little friends," he half laughed, "I just had no idea how much you enjoyed their company."

"Cliff and I go way back. And if there's one person that can tell us the dirty details of what she was accused of, he's our man. I just hope my hunch is right, and he was her lawyer."

"You know what I don't understand?" he posed seriously.

"How many licks it actually takes to get the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop?"

He turned on his heel to fall in step beside her.

"What? You look like a guy that goes for the crunch," she held up her hands in defense.

"If the guy is a political official in trouble, why isn't his crack legal staff on it, covering it up?"

"Maybe that would draw too much attention his way," she offered. "He could be paying Cliff under the table, going low key to keep it in a smaller court," she shrugged. "But it's Neptune. We'll find out about it in the end."

"Yes, the dirty laundry and dead bodies always find their way into the public eye," he waxed sarcastic.

"Or in view of a private eye," she added, tapping him with her elbow. "Can I please go back to my car now?" she whined for effect.

"Tired of my company already?"

She looked up at him, hating that at times she just couldn't cut through the sarcasm to find the sincerity. His shell was so polished that even when he wanted to reach out, his hand always hit the spotless glass.

"I just really have to study for my Trig exam. Today was our review, so I really can't afford to skimp any more."

He nodded. "Thanks for helping me follow this. I just need answers, you know?"

"I know. And I'll try to help you get as many as I can," she promised.

He didn't say anything, and she was more than relieved. Some guys would make a cheesy comment about how she could help him in a much more sophomoric, or perhaps pornographic, way—or he could have really cut into her with a comment on the muddy nature of their sudden kissing fit from earlier. She knew it was a bad idea, to go back into that place with him. Too much had happened to them—together and separately—for them to ever have a happy, normal relationship.

Most days she wondered if happy and normal were ever in the cards for her. Twisted and painful looked good when it came along with his lips against hers. She was going to have to be much more careful.

Much, much more careful.

XXXX

Bite the bullet. Stare down the barrel.

Why were all the euphemisms for putting off the inevitable gun related? Maybe because she felt like she was on the unfriendly end of a firing line, and even worse, she deserved every last shot.

Her cell phone was about to become such a lethal weapon, the moment she dialed the number. She didn't have the words she would say in mind; she knew there weren't 'right' words, or words that would make this easier for her to say or him to hear.

Rory dialed Logan's number and simply waited.

"Hey, where are you?"

She closed her eyes. "Logan, hi. Did you get in okay?"

"All except for the not being able to find you part. I called your mom and got the machine. I figured maybe you two were out and lost track of time."

"Not exactly."

"What's up, Ace?"

"I sort of took a trip."

"A trip?"

"Yeah. I figured I'd get away, clear my head a little. All this wedding stuff is about to start, in full swing," she hated the strain of the lies on her bones, "and you were gone on business, so I figured it'd be my last chance."

"We could have gone away after I got back," he offered.

"I know—and that's sweet. I just wanted some me time."

"Me time?"

"You know. A chance to think and read and watch really cheesy chick flicks and eat hordes of food," she listed off tons of things she was not partaking in.

"You do those things here."

"I know, but here I can do them without feeling stupid for letting you see my face slathered in chocolate ice cream."

"So, where's here?"

Damn him and his attention to detail. He always listened when she talked, she gave him that. Most guys registered the fact you're speaking, paying only enough attention to keep them out of trouble, or from agreeing to wallpaper the bedroom with big pink flowers.

"California."

There. She'd said it. The worst was surely over.

"That's a big trip to have me time."

"It is. My dad is always talking about his days out here, how he came out here to get away from his parents and clear his head. I hoped it ran in the family."

"Do I need to come out there?"

He sounded concerned, as well as he should. She hated that she was about to lie to him, telling him she was fine, that everything was going to be fine. She didn't know that, and she didn't know what she would end up doing to him. She told the nagging little voice that of course she would go back and plan the wedding and marry this man. That was the plan, and that's what she was going to do. But the nagging little voice reminded her that her situation had changed to needing ground rules and going to meet Jess for breakfast. And butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach at the thought of seeing him sitting there over a cup of coffee waiting for her.

"No," she assured him. "I'm fine. I didn't expect to be here this long, I really thought I'd be home before you, and I really didn't want to freak you out. I've just really enjoyed the few days out here, and when I got to the airport, my flight was full and so they offered free miles to anyone willing to bump their flight."

There was silence for a beat. "So, you'll be home tomorrow?"

"As long as they're room on the flight," she answered immediately.

"I can send a plane, Rory," he sounded tired, relieved, and stressed all at once.

"I'll be home soon."

"Okay," he wasn't going to argue with her. He hated arguing with her. "I just, I miss you and I expected to see you."

"I know. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you."

"You're really okay?"

"I'm good."

"Okay. It's late here. I have an early meeting, to go over the Toronto stuff."

"Get some sleep. I'll let you know when I'm on my way home."

"I love you."

She hesitated, feeling the full brunt of what she was doing with her indecision. "I love you too."

He hung up, and she hated herself. She did love him, and that what was making this all so hard. She loved Logan, but she'd learned to love him while still being in love with someone else.

She looked at the clock, reading three hours earlier than her body felt that it was, and fell against the mattress only to find sleep much easier than her conscience should have allowed her to.

XXXX

Veronica was hoping for an evening alone. It wasn't unheard of in the Mars home, for her father to be working late, leaving a note and dinner up to her. Once upon a time, her mother would have been making dinner in the kitchen, a beacon for both her and her father to drop whatever they were doing and make an appearance around the family dinner table. It seemed like such a long time ago.

Her father was standing behind the open counter, his back to her as he sloshed something around in a pan restaurant style. Most days this would be a welcome sign, someone to come home to and go over the events of the day while chowing down whatever delicacy her father surprised her with. But today wasn't the 'share with Daddy' kind of day, and no matter what he was frying up, it couldn't beat time alone with her thoughts.

"Ah, the daughter arrives," he smiled as he turned around. She walked around next to him so he could kiss her temple. "What's shaking?"

"This and that," she shrugged. "What's cooking?"

"Just a little something for your dining pleasure," he revealed the contents of his stir-fry pan.

"Looks ambitious."

"I do have some skills, thank you."

"Crazy, mad skills."

"So, learn anything interesting today?"

She blinked, taken off guard by his question. Specifically, she'd learned too many new things; things that didn't quite seem to make sense together yet, no matter how much evidence she currently had that they were interlinking puzzle pieces. And some things, like the fact that her lips seemed magnetically linked to her ex-boyfriend's, well, some things were best undiscovered.

"Earth to Veronica," he waved a potholder in front of her face..

"Sorry. Nothing special. We had a sub in history that played _Back to the Future_, reasoning it covered 1950s politics and the Oedipal complex to boot."

"And you'll go directly from there to Stamford," he sniffed proudly.

"From your lips to God's ears," she pressed her palms together as if in prayer.

"So, you up for a little board game action tonight? I thought we'd go crazy and play Monopoly. It's been a long time since you wiped the floor with your old man."

She made a face, tsking as she did so. "Normally, you'd be so on," she wrinkled her eyes as she declined. "But I have a huge test to study for and a school that thinks Michael J. Fox really went back in time and got hit on by his mom and disappeared."

He gave her a look of disappointment. "We could just win 'til someone buys Boardwalk. It's all pretty much down hill from there anyhow."

"Can I take a rain check?"

"You're gonna start the teenagery thing where you ask to eat in your room and get dropped off four blocks from the mall, aren't you?"

"I do have to be a teenager sometimes," she smiled sadly. "It's state law."

"Fine," he handed her a plate and watched her as she loaded it up and took it and her book bag into her room. Once she slipped her plate onto her desk, she opened her search engine and tried Priscilla Banks through it, picking at the chicken and vegetables in front of her and trying desperately to stop feeling his lips against hers whenever her mind wandered.


	8. The Odds That I Will Miss Your Smile

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: The Odds That I Will Miss Your Smile

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Rory paused in the middle of the mass of browsers, dozens of single entities united to form a crowd. To the average observer she probably looked like she was admiring each unique piece of art that her eyes scanned over, but in reality they were all blurs of color, their meanings lost on her as she looked for leather and denim instead.

It took her a few moments, but she finally spied him leaning against the wall, staring at a painting so hard that she wondered if he wanted to step inside it. Smiling to herself, she moved to stand next to him, close enough to signify they were together, but not close enough to accidentally brush against him.

"A fan of the impressionists, are you?"

He shrugged as he continued to gaze at the city street café scene. "Makes me want coffee."

"Everything has that affect on me," she said stoically, earning a smile from him.

"So, you're still here."

She wondered if he was as surprised as she was. "I am. Though I'm very intrigued as to why you chose this place in particular to meet."

"I come here a lot."

"Seriously?"

He gave her a look that answered her question. She shuddered when she was unable to pull her eyes away from his. Being this close to him was suffocating. "Artists need to be stimulated by other forms of media. It's called broadening your horizons."

"I just watch a lot of TV," she teased.

"Yeah, well, cable's expensive," he shrugged.

"The price I pay to rot my body," she turned her attention to the painting. "I like it."

"Maybe your boyfriend will buy it for you."

The chill in his voice seeped through her clothes and ran up her spine. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Your call," he stood up straight and shot her a side-ward glance. "But you talked to him?"

She nodded. She still felt guilty, lying to him about trying to make it home today. She'd known as soon as she stood in the gallery next to Jess, she'd feel entitled to one more hour with him, then another after that, until she found herself not satisfied when she had to go. She'd have to stay another day, to get more answers. She could push her luck for a while, but she knew it wouldn't last too long. These men would only take so much—less than she hoped for.

"Huh."

"So, is this one your favorite?"

"At the moment. It makes me sad, the woman sitting drinking her coffee alone."

"Maybe she's not sad. Maybe she needed time alone."

He considered this, then looked at her. "That's what makes art great. It's subjective, wide open to interpretation."

"That would explain why all your books have no margins left."

He smirked. "I tried to talk the guys into printing my book with no margins, so no punk, smart-ass kid could ruin my book with their thoughts."

She laughed. "You did not."

"I did," he nodded. "Then they told me I'd have a hell of a time conning bookstores into stocking it if it looked normal, but I could kiss my chances goodbye if I had a blank cover and no margins."

"They gave you the blank cover."

"You should have seen the mock ups they showed me."

"Didn't capture the feel of your book?"

"They all had the girl and the guy together, looking happy and," he shook his head. "Made me want to smoke."

"Everything makes you want to smoke," she raised an eyebrow.

"Not everything."

He was good at forcing a reaction out of her. He hadn't touched her, but he'd invaded her, so many times in the mere moments they'd spent together that day. He'd instantly transported her back in time, and saw him leaning against Gypsy's old gas pump, fiddling with a cigarette. That image would have been the perfect cover to his book, in her opinion.

"What did you want on the cover?"

"I wanted it to be perfect, or nothing at all."

"What was perfect?"

"The girl. Just," he paused, no doubt seeing his ideal cover in his head, "the girl."

She bit her lip. "The girl wasn't perfect."

"It's open to interpretation," he took a deep breath in and watched as her fairly well-maintained visage crumbled next to him. "Come on, let's get you some coffee."

She nodded mutely and let him usher her through the flock of strangers, weaving around the living statues and wondered how far off their interpretations were from the artists' original inspirations.

XXXX

Veronica sat in front of the computer, checking her email during her free study period, willing the time to go faster. She'd had no news from Cliff, and as soon as school got out she was going back over to put the pressure on him to deliver. She was tired of avoiding Logan in the halls and having no answers for him. She'd much prefer to avoid him and have answers.

"I had a thought," came the voice that was much closer to her than what should have been possible. She'd never heard him come up to her, as she'd been so lost in her thoughts, ironically, of him.

"Let me guess, it had to do with you and a Victoria's Secret model?" she mocked him.

"You have connections in the police station."

"Um, yeah, so?"

"Can't you just get a key or a file or something? We don't need Cliff for details of Kendall's busts."

She cringed. "I'm kind of on the outs with my 'details' contact."

"Outs? You? What, did you implicate him in an investigation? Get him arrested?"

"I kind of broke up with him and got him suspended."

Logan faulted. "You were dating a cop?"

She shrugged. "A cute cop. Briefly."

"Wasn't that, you know, illegal, what with you being jailbait and all?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, he was two years older than me, not twelve."

"Touché."

She looked around the mostly empty computer lab and cringed at the question that popped into her head. She hated even more that she knew she couldn't hold it in.

"Why Kendall?" she looked up at him expectantly, praying he wouldn't answer.

"Some time a warm body is a warm body. Don't you ever feel that way?"

Her eyes welled up to the point that they stung, but no drops fell. "No."

"Why, Veronica Mars, I'm flattered," he said softly.

She stood up, closing her bag in one swift motion. He stood as well, blocking her path to the door.

"Move, Logan."

"The bell didn't ring."

"I need to get out of here."

"Veronica," he lowered his voice. "You asked. I'm not as saintly as you are."

"I never wanted you to be a saint."

"No, just as perfect as you are."

She opened her mouth. "I'm not perfect!"

"I can't be that guy."

"What guy?"

It hurt to stand there, in front of him, as naked as he made her feel. No one was watching them, no one cared to listen to their exaggerated hushed tones. He reached down and brushed her cheek with his thumb.

"The kind of guy that deserves you."

"So, what kind of guy are you?" she asked, feeling like she was staring down the barrel of a gun instead of gazing in his eyes.

"The kind of guy that aches because he can't have you."

Tears spilled over their dam, as all the air was sucked out of her lungs. There was no retort, no funny come back that could divert either of their attention away from what he'd just said. She needed him to be the one to walk away, because she couldn't move just then. She looked up to find him impassive.

"Please, Logan," she didn't care that her voice broke; she just hoped it was enough for him to take pity on her and let her flee to the bathroom. She had no power to stop him if he kissed her; teachers were never around when she really needed them.

He parted his lips, looking at her in the way that made her knees quiver. She'd all but given up hope when he stepped aside and let her pass through, and she streaked down the hall and locked herself in the safety of a stall where she let out all the emotion he'd stirred up in her.

She needed to find the information that linked Kendall to the Fitzpatricks as fast as possible and go back to total avoidance of Logan Echolls.

XXXX

Rory wondered if it could have always been this way. Sitting at a table, waiting for someone who knew how she took her coffee to order her pie even when she said she wasn't hungry. Having an old friend that smiled easily at her stories, even ones he'd heard before. It's just that when she thought of him, she never thought of feeling comfortable or them getting over themselves to become great friends. When she thought of Jess, she saw shadows, outlines, his hands on her body, and his smile.

His smile was so elusive, so hard to come by that she felt it was a prize he rewarded her with. Most people earned a somewhat derisive scowl, yet without fail she could elicit actual expressions from him. A wide range, it seemed, not having to think very hard to remember rage just as easily as lust transposing his features. In fact, the stirrings of both were nearly interchangeable. Discomfort laced with urgency.

He wasn't smiling when he slid her blueberry pie in front of her.

"I got that to tide you over. They're brewing a fresh pot."

She nodded, now used to not talking. Neither of them had said a word since the gallery, until now. She longed for comfortable silence. "Okay."

He let out a long breath. "Shit."

She looked up, surprised at the word he'd muttered, just louder than as if he was trying to hide it under his breath. "Jess?"

"Come on, Rory. I can't sit around in coffee shops all day, waiting for you to decide you've gotten what you came here for."

She blinked, surprised that he was cutting her off so soon. "Jess," she pleaded.

"I don't have any answers for you; I've never had any answers for you."

She looked down at her pie. She couldn't believe that. If that was true, she was risking an entire future life for nothing.

"Why are you doing this now? Why are you still here?"

"If I leave now, I'll never see you again."

It was his turn to blink, agape.

"They weren't going to, were they?" she asked, talking about his book. "He left, he thought because it was best for her, and he wasn't going back."

He pushed a lock of hair off his face. "Yes."

"And I assume he didn't want her to run after him, either?"

He looked up at her. He wasn't going to answer her that. His face hadn't gone emotionless, but he was doing his damnedest. He was a fighter. She was going to have to force his hand.

"I just kept thinking, I wasn't ever going to see you because I'd told you I didn't want you to come around again. It was going to be my fault, then I read your book, and that part about him thinking about her hair. He was driving across the country, trying to figure out what he was going to do once he reached the ocean and all he could think of was the way her hair felt between his fingers."

He gave a brief nod, acknowledging he remembered. Whether it was writing it or feeling it, that was still only for him to know.

"But I thought that if any of it was what you felt, even just a hint of it," she bit her lip, wishing she'd at least gotten a cup of coffee in her before they'd started their conversation, "she'd have gone to see him."

He cocked his head. "What?"

"The girl. She would have gone to see him."

"Rory."

"Because even though she did what she had to do, it didn't mean she didn't think about him. Think about being with him in ways she wasn't ready to when they were together."

He looked up to see if their coffee was ever coming. It would be acceptable to refrain from speaking if a waitress came by, as it would be rude to carry on a conversation, oblivious to the service. He could imagine that was how the other man in her life lived, going on while support staff scurried about around him, not even noticing all the work involved in getting him through a day, while she smiled at them with graciousness and gratitude.

The coffee was on a slow drip, and he had no reprieve.

"Isn't that what it was about? Her?"

"For him."

Her breathing wasn't regular anymore, and her heart beat so hard in her chest she felt like it was knocking to be let out. "What about you?"

He put his hand to his jacket, feeling the cigarettes in the inside pocket. With anyone else, he'd excuse himself, take a breather, or just leave altogether. He could just get up and walk away from her. Not now. He'd done it before. He looked back in her eyes, and he knew he wasn't going anywhere.

"What about me?"

"What do you want? Do you want me to leave, really?"

"You can. You can get up and get on a plane, flash those eyes at what's his name and he'll forget about this as soon as you're in his bed."

She bit down on her lip, hard. He was right. He was evasive, but he was right. "You don't know him."

"No, but I've seen your work. You can be persuasive, and hard to lose."

"How about easy to forget?"

He could lie, to hurt her or make her go away. It'd be easy enough, because right here and now she was going to accept whatever answers he had for her. He was treading a dangerous line, one where he could have a taste of everything he wanted, knowing the whole time it would be ripped away the second he let it feel normal.

"What do you want me to say?"

She swallowed. "I want to know if I was reading too much into the book. If what you wrote, if that's really…."

"If I think about you?" he supplied.

"Or if you just walked away."

Her voice had broken and now there was just silence and tension as the waitress brought two cups and a pot of fresh coffee to the table, elongating his reprieve and giving the butterflies in her stomach time to flap themselves into a frenzy.

XXXX

Veronica let herself into her father's office, relieved for the feeling of normalcy that washed over her. She could hear her father moving around in his private office, behind a closed door. She had time to make sure all the signs of her earlier emotional outburst had faded. Eye drops worked wonders. She felt like an addict, trying to cover her usage, and to be honest Logan was the strongest drug she'd ever consumed.

Her father would worry if he saw signs she was getting hooked again. Hell, she was worried enough after that little incident in her closet. She'd let her guard down, letting him overwhelm her, it had been a mistake. A set back. She was capable of doing business with him. Business was just the thing she needed to do to keep her mind off of him. She just needed to stay busy.

She dumped her bag behind the desk and assumed the position. She clicked her computer on and prayed for the phone to ring. They needed a big case, something with philandering husbands and back room deals to remind her what it was to trust a man.

She stared at the phone, narrowing her eyes at it as it continued to remain silent. She groaned and put her head on her crossed arms, which were folded neatly on the desktop. As soon as her eyes closed, she saw the look on Logan's face. His warm eyes, filled with pain. In the next moment, she saw his eyes, filled with lust. The flashes got faster, and all the things she missed about him blurred by, not lasting long enough to do anything than make her ache.

By the time the phone did ring, she wasn't sure why she was supposed to forget him. The caller identified himself and told her he was returning Mr. Mars' phone call. She put him on hold and stood up slowly, making her way to her father's door and knocking just once before trying the handle and sticking her head in. Her father looked up at her, worry instantly creasing his forehead.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. You have a phone call. It's a Mr. Huntzberger, he's returning your call."

Keith nodded. "You sure you're okay? You look pale."

She smiled tightly. "I'm fine. It's kind of slow, though, I think I'm going to go home and study."

"This won't take long. I'll take this call, make a short stop, and I'll be home for dinner. Feeling up to some quality time?"

She looked at her father, in all his concern and love. This was the reason she couldn't give up hope in men. She just didn't know what it would take to be sure Logan could be one of those men. If she had what it took to make him want to be one of those men.

"I'll set up the Monopoly board. But be prepared to be whumped by a girl."

Keith smiled. "I think my delicate ego can take a battering or two. See you at home, honey."

She nodded and turned, leaving the door open as she went. She gathered her things slowly as her father answered his call, wondering why that last name sounded so familiar to her. It wasn't a local surname, but it stuck in her craw.

"Yes, I'm sorry I wasn't available earlier. I got your message, and it sounds fairly standard. Should we discuss rates?"


	9. I Love You When I Forget About Me

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: I Love You When I Forget About Me

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Veronica paused as she entered the lobby of the Neptune Grand Hotel. She could go up to the desk and ask for Logan Echolls' room number, but then she'd get that look. The look every single concierge got when a blonde woman of a certain age inquired about one of the most notorious bachelors in Southern California. She didn't want to know how many women actually came and went out of the hotel room he called home, but she was willing to bet it was enough to warrant the look she wanted to avoid.

That would be plan B.

She could call him and ask herself, but she saw very little fun in that. What struck her first was that though he was a playboy, he wasn't a heavy metal rocker from the 80s, and therefore wasn't a room trasher. Had he done it too often, he probably wouldn't still be a resident of the Grand, no matter how much money he had, and he was most likely in the same room he was occupying the last time she'd been to the hotel to visit him.

She just hoped she wouldn't have to convince him that this was going to be nothing like the last time she came to see him. She wasn't feeling particularly capable of fending him off as she'd left her stick at home.

"Veronica?" came a familiar, feminine voice. She turned around to see Rory Gilmore walking toward her, room key already in hand. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here on business. You?" she quirked her head, already feeling the answer as she took in the flush of her cohort's cheeks and the pleased, wistful smile that covered her face. She used to look like that after time spent in this very hotel, she mused to herself.

"I'm… just sorting some things out. I've seen Jess."

Veronica nodded. "And that's… good?"

Rory bit her lip and smiled. "I think so. It's… still complicated."

Veronica held up her hands defensively. "I understand completely. I'm about to do the complicated thing myself."

Rory looked to the elevator. "Want some company?"

Veronica shrugged. "Why not?"

Once in the elevator, Rory pressed the button for the fifth floor, the very one Veronica anticipated finding her complication on. "So, are you finding your answers?"

Rory looked to her, thoughtfully. "We're talking. I feel with Jess, I never really know for sure if he's telling me the truth or just what he thinks I need to hear."

Veronica wished she could say the same of Logan. If she asked him a question, he was unfailingly honest with her, even if he knew it would break her heart. "You came two thousand miles to be placated?"

Rory smiled. "Some people think I'm naïve," she paused a moment. "But I know him. I know he's lied in the past, but he had his reasons. If we're going to put it behind us, we have to be honest, and he knows that."

"Are you sure he's not over it?"

Rory smiled. "You read the book, right?"

Veronica returned the smile. "Yeah. Oh, I never got the book back!"

Rory held up a hand. "It's okay. I've got it committed to memory."

"He has your copy. I'm sure he'll give it back."

"Actually, I'm kind of hoping when I leave, I won't need it."

Veronica hadn't looked at the situation that way. Rory had come to California with questions and pieces of their time together, what Veronica could only imagine was chronicled between the covers of the book he'd written. "What exactly are you hoping to leave with?"

Rory shrugged. "Something more."

The elevator doors opened, and Veronica found herself wanting to know what that meant, but instantly her eyes were transfixed on Logan's door at the end of the hall. Last kisses in that very door frame, her with her shirt on inside out and him wearing only a towel around his waist came to mind. Rory calling her name brought her back to the present. "Are you okay? Did you want the fifth floor?"

"I, yeah," Veronica stepped forward and the doors closed behind them.

Rory looked to the door as well. "Is this the complicated something?"

Veronica smiled tightly. "Sort of. Yeah. I mean, it's business. But," she sighed.

"It's personal, too," Rory nodded. "Well, good luck."

"Thanks. You too."

Rory nodded and unlocked her door, leaving Veronica alone in the hallway. She took a deep breath and walked in front of his door. She could think of a million different reasons not to knock on that door. Information transfer wasn't a face-to-face necessity, but somehow she'd convinced herself so easily that after telling him this news they'd have to decide where to go from here, how best to proceed, and that brainstorming wasn't a phone or email activity. She needed to see his reactions and feel his energy to gauge which leads were worth investigating and draw out even tiny and otherwise useless bits of his recollection for the case.

This was business, after all.

She knocked on the door and waited for him to open the door.

XXXX

Rory dialed the number with the speed of practice. She waited impatiently as the phone rang, taking her purse off her shoulder and slipping her shoes off before getting on top of the covers. She didn't bother with formalities when the line picked up.

"I'm sorry I haven't called, but I am now and I really have to talk to you."

"Rory? Oh my God, where are you? Are you still in California? What's going on?" Lane babbled back.

"Oh, Lane," she pulled a pillow into her lap and flipped her hair back off her shoulder. "I got a private detective to find him."

"You hired a detective? How very _Maltese Falcon_ of you," Lane commented.

"It wasn't quite so dramatic," she assured her friend. "But she was great, I just gave her basic details and all of a sudden…," she trailed off.

"Maybe you should let her take a crack at Jimmy Hoffa," Lane joked to fill the silence. "So, you've seen him?"

"Jimmy Hoffa?"

"Rory," Lane warned. "You have, haven't you?"

"Yeah. But don't worry. We're just talking. And we have these ground rules."

"Ground rules?"

"Just to keep things simple."

"Yes, this all seems very simplistic."

"Lane," Rory protested.

"I've been very supportive. I drove you to the airport; I didn't press you for details. I didn't answer my phone when Logan called, or even make eye contact with your mom when she came into Luke's fifteen times in two days."

"Fif-teen times? Did he serve Danish and French toast on the same day again? Or was he doing double shots in his coffee?"

"She knew something was up. Have you talked to anyone else?"

"I've talked to Mom and Logan."

"And?"

"And… Mom isn't thrilled."

"What about Logan?"

"He's okay with me taking some time."

"What kind of time does he think you're taking?"

"Time alone. To think."

"Listen, Rory," Lane hedged. "You know I love you. You know I love you, right?"

"Yes, and I love you too."

"Good. Then you'll hear what I'm about to say."

"You're not going to tell me I'm crazy, are you?"

"No interrupting," Lane admonished. "Okay, now you know that I was never crazy about Jess. He was rude and sarcastic and stole candy from babies," she began.

"He never," she sighed.

"That sounds like an interruption," Lane barked and waited for silence. "Good. Now. I didn't care for Jess, but I tolerated him because I knew he made you happy, or whatever he made you."

Rory waited for her friend to continue, as she got the feeling this wasn't the end of her lecture.

"And I don't know Logan that well, but I know you have been with him for a long time now, through a lot of stuff, for whatever reason you have always worked it out, and now you have promised to marry him. Do you want to marry Logan? Did something happen? More bridesmaids or maybe a secretary or something?"

"No. He didn't do anything."

"Are you sure? Is there a feeling or some kind of woman's intuition that's making you question it? I mean, why now? Why Jess and why now?"

"Lane, I told you, his book," she began.

"Is it really the book? Or has all this been going on since he left?"

Rory was quiet, and Lane continued. "Because if it has, then you should stay there until you're sure you want to come home and get married to Logan."

XXXX

"Married?"

"That's what Cliff said. She was young, seventeen. Either her parents didn't care or didn't know, but it wasn't annulled, and no divorce papers were filed under the name Banks, so," Veronica hitched up one shoulder as she sat at her end of the couch.

It was very strategic, their positions. He sat on one end of the couch, looking at her like he might leap the distance at any moment to stop her flow of information. She sat on her end, telling him every last detail and doing her best to look like she didn't want him to jump her.

"She's a bigamist," he nodded.

"Having her cake and eating it too. And a few other side dishes, apparently."

His smile gave her the shivers, as if he were giving her a flash warning. "That's all I am?"

She opened her mouth seconds before speech came out. "I'm just saying she's clearly still involved, with the Fitzpatricks, I mean. So, she could have been trying to get to you for them. If they had anything to do with Felix's murder, then it's not so hard to believe," she began.

"She knew that sleeping with me wouldn't get her anything but a good time. She would talk about investments, sometimes, but I was already in the shower with the water running, not listening to her. She would be gone before I got out."

Veronica sat up. "Investments? What kind of investments?"

He stood up. "I'm not completely sure. Probably property, that's what her husband, well, her second husband, does. That doesn't sound right, though," he paced back and forth in thought.

"Just, close your eyes and put yourself in the moment. Think about her words."

He looked directly at her. "I think it was art."

She cocked her head. "Art? She wanted you to invest in art?"

"That painting," he pointed behind her. "She would stare at it, during," he looked away for a second. "Anyway, she asked me if I liked it. I said it was fine, then went back to, you know," he looked away again.

Oh, she knew. She was glad he was talking about being in bed with someone else, otherwise she would have been in need of being hosed down at the very thought of him and 'you know.'

"Afterwards she kept mentioning it. I just thought she was being a girl, yapping about something and wanting my attention."

"Then what happened?"

"I turned the radio up and started the shower. Guess she doesn't like Metallica."

Veronica wasn't paying attention to him as he walked over and began making noise at the wet bar. She was too busy contemplating all the new strings of information she'd collected in the last few hours. She felt like there was a connection, all ready at the tip of her tongue to be expelled. A glass came down over her shoulder, and she looked up at him.

"Just soda."

She took it and took a long drink. "Thanks."

"You really think there's a connection?"

He wasn't on his end of the couch anymore. He was sitting right next to her. He wasn't giving her space to think, but there was definitely a connection. They'd never had a problem making a connection.

"Unless it's just my overactive imagination," she looked up him.

"How active is your imagination?"

"Logan," she bit her lip, and he took her drink out of her hands. In the next second, he was leaning over her, making her imagination run wild. She reached out and put her hands on his shoulders, not committing to pulling him closer or pushing him away yet.

"You really don't miss me at all?" he asked calmly, despite that look in his eyes. He was restless. He wanted to kiss her, and there were few things he denied himself.

"I never said that."

"Do you miss this?" he kissed her, making her agony over what would happen in his hotel room peak in alarm. To push him away would be lying to him and denying herself. She kissed him back with increased fervor, encouraging him to move his hands over her body, moving her shirt up, just a few inches. She could let him do all the things she missed, the things that no matter what, she couldn't replicate without him. His lips left hers, but never broke contact with her skin as the nerves on her neck were ignited by his tongue.

She arched her back, creating friction in all the right areas. She knew exactly where her body fit against his. Nothing felt like this, and she knew if she told him to stop, she'd hate herself later tonight. But she wasn't sure she'd be able to live with herself if she let him continue.

"Logan," she whimpered, still running her fingers up underneath his tee shirt. Saying yes with her body by encouraging his. He popped his head up to look her full in the eyes. He always looked at her, saw her. And for that, she knew she loved him.

"Don't say it."

"But we can't," she felt like crying, because she wanted to obey him. She wanted to not say anything and let herself be swept up in the moment. By this moment, with him.

"Because it would mean something?" he stroked her hair back.

"Because it wouldn't. Nothing has changed."

He hadn't moved. He was all over her, clouding her judgment, affecting her. "You're right. Nothing has changed. I still want you."

She had nothing to say to that, so she kissed him again.

XXXX

Rory opened her hotel room door and stared at her guest. "You came."

Jess sighed. "You asked me to."

She worried her lip. "But, we had ground rules. We weren't going to be alone."

He leaned against the door frame, since she was yet to step back and act inviting. "You didn't sound okay."

She wanted to protest, but she knew she'd probably sounded quite crazed on the phone. A more rational person, the type of person she used to think of herself as, would have slept on her best friend's questions and advice. That person would have made decisions and proceeded accordingly. She, instead, called Jess and asked him to come to her hotel room. The fact that it hadn't been the wisest move was hitting her as his face gave way to the level of concern that had made him say he'd be right over and show up a mere fifteen minutes later.

"I'm sorry, maybe this was a mistake," she frowned.

He cocked his head. "I thought everything was okay before."

"It was. I mean, it is. We were just being honest, and that's what I wanted."

"Maybe I should come in."

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Well."

He glanced behind him. "I really don't want to have this conversation standing the hallway."

She nodded. "Of course. I'm being rude. Come in," she offered.

He brushed her arm as he stepped into the room. "You aren't being rude," he said softly. "We're kind of past that."

"That and ground rules," she smiled, but looked down.

"Look," he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the sofa. "I meant what I said. Leaving you … I thought it was best at the time. It wasn't easy. I'm not saying I don't think it was the right thing to do, or even that I wouldn't do it again."

Her eyes welled up at his words, even though she told herself this was exactly what she needed. She needed to be upset by his words; she needed something to drive her away, back to reality. Back to Connecticut.

"When Luke told me I had to go, there was no way at that point that I could explain to you why," he looked her in the eyes. "Can you understand that?"

"I tried to tell myself that you just left, that you didn't care about me anymore. I thought that would be easier, but I just never believed it."

He smiled. "Good."

She looked back up at him. "Good? You think that's good?"

"Rory, calm down," he sighed. He hadn't come to fight, but all of a sudden, she was ready to give him one. She was tired of being afraid to push him away.

"No!" she shook her head, though she was pretty sure most of her body was shaking in anger. "Do you know what I've put myself through? If I could have just believed that you were a jerk, known one way or another, I could have just put it behind me and written you off as some guy that had no bearing on my life!"

"I'm supposed to be upset that you didn't think I was a total asshole?" he raised the pitch of his tone, not to match hers but to sound like he was having the same conversation in the very least.

"No! I don't know!" she gave him a look of disgust.

"I thought about you, Rory. I picked up the phone, and I called you, you know that."

"Normal people talk when they make a long distance phone call!"

"I still didn't have words. You did though. I thought you were okay. You said you were moving on."

"Did you really expect me to just wait around?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Good," she huffed.

"But it didn't stop me from thinking about you. And I knew I couldn't keep calling you. So I started writing, every time I thought about you."

"And you ended up with a novel?"

He started to speak again and took a deep breath. He let it out in one quick breath and took a step closer to her. "There is something else I haven't told you."

"What?"

"I was back in New York for a while."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that."

He shook his head. "I know you know that," he said hesitantly. "But you don't know why I left the second time. Why I came back here."

She was confused and anger was boiling up in her. "Well?"

"I was back in my old neighborhood, working every day. Surviving well enough. But I walked around the streets back home, places I knew like the back of my hand, and I just felt sick."

"Sick?"

"I guess you could call it homesick. My thoughts were somewhere else. I'd thought for a long time that if I could just get back to New York," he shook his head. "I couldn't go back to Stars Hollow, and I knew you weren't there anymore, but we were still there, you know?"

She closed her eyes.

"I couldn't be in my home and feel like that. I figured at least if I were in a new place, then I could blame it on anything but you."

"Jess," she opened her eyes again. He'd taken a few steps closer to her, and his words mixed with all her other strong emotions.

"It wasn't fair for me to take it out on you, the fact that I couldn't get over you."

"Jess," she looked into his eyes. "I shouldn't be here."

"But you are," he replied in the same breath.

"I moved on," she swallowed.

"I moved two thousand miles."

"I just can't get you out of my head," she complained to the one person that knew what it felt like.

He nodded and put his hand on her cheek. "But you want to."

She wasn't sure, but that had been her story all along. She promised herself to someone else. She was coming here to put Jess back in that place where he saw them. In Stars Hollow, in the past. In a place she couldn't go back to. Now here she was, all but in his arms somewhere new, in the present as she tried to decide her future. She owed him the same thing he'd been giving her. The truth.

"I don't know."


	10. Post Coital Confrontations

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Post-Coital Confrontations

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Rory stepped out of the shower, her skin pink from the heat of the water and the intense way she'd scrubbed the loofah over her body. She'd washed her hair twice to get the smell of smoke out of her hair, and now, as she stood in front of the steamy mirror smelling only the lavender of her conditioner, she was sorry for all the trouble she'd gone through.

She knew when she woke up that it had been a mistake. That no matter what she'd allowed to happen the night before, the entire night before, she couldn't do it again. It'd been a momentary lapse in judgment, or an unfulfilled wish that she could now put to rest. As visceral as it was, being with Jess wasn't real. Her memories of the night would be just as fantastic as the fantasies she'd developed in her teenage years.

She wiped down the mirror with her towel and tossed it on the floor. She picked up her brush and smoothed her wet hair back off her neck and face. She saw an angry, red bruised mark on her neck, and leaning up and in, she saw a trail of them from her neck to her stomach. She half turned to see the biggest on the back side of her hip. She shuddered as she remembered him leaving it here.

_The bed was smaller than what she was used to being in with another person. There wasn't room to roll away from him, not that she wanted to. From the moment her lips had crashed into his, she hadn't much cared about needing her own space. His hands canvassed the skin that he'd exposed out of necessity, removing things so that his lips wouldn't burn a hole through them. His head had followed his hands, leaving her free to writhe back and forth, enjoying each and every pleasure that he provided her. Her hips tilted up, and he used both hands to hold her in the position. She felt his mouth open, and instead of wet heat, she felt a sharper nip of teeth. She arched her back, and he let her down so he could leave an open-mouthed kiss on the slight protrusion of her hip bone on the opposite side. _

Luckily, she knew her skin would heal in the next few days and the evidence that she'd been with him would fade forever. In the meantime, she had to do her best to push the flood of vivid images that accosted her out of the forefront of her mind. It was one thing to have fallen to her curiosity, but to continue to relive it would be like carrying on the affair.

None of this was fair to Logan, but she could rationalize that going into the marriage uncertain as to her commitment was worse than sleeping with Jess and finding out for sure if Logan was the man for her. And now she knew.

She wiped the mirror down again to look at her reflection. It should be crystal clear now. She frowned as she looked at herself and only saw her body's reaction to the man she'd let into her bed for one night only.

_She'd grown much more adventurous over the last few years. She knew where to touch Logan to take him to the heights of pleasure, and he was a master at making her skin hum and her insides uncoil. But being with Jess… he was so different. The way his stomach tightened as she skimmed her nails over it. The way his head lolled back, as if she'd taken away muscle control when she kissed up his jaw line. He liked to be touched in different places, and he touched her in a completely different way. Just when she thought he was ready to bring her all the way to the crest of gratification, he let her crash back down, so he could intensify her net result. When he finally broke through the wall that separated her from body tingling to toe curling, she cried out in surprise and shock. She just hadn't realized she was capable of such intense, sustainable reactions. _

_And even then, he had only just begun._

She heard the loud knocking at the door to her hotel room, and she felt her heartbeat hasten. It could be the linen service, but immediately a part of her hoped that he was back for more. That was the same part that took over last night and let her believe that he needed this as much as she did. And if he was back now, then maybe he truly had wanted it as much as she did.

She brushed her hair down, letting the wet strands plaster around her neck to cover the evidence, and grabbed her bathrobe off the back of the bathroom door. She took one last look at her very pink skin, and turned away from her reflected image. She moved to the door, took a deep breath to calm the nerves that were firing off in her stomach at the thought of him coming back, and opened the door.

He smiled at her warmly and stepped into the room while wrapping his arms around her. There was no hesitation, as if she expected him to be there. She was slower to return the gesture, out of shock. She hugged his solid form and rested her head on his shoulder.

When she pulled back, he looked into her eyes. "Surprised?"

"Yeah, yes," she blinked. "Logan, what are you doing here?"

XXXX

"And then I just have to upload it into the mainframe and voila," Mac finished explaining and turned to look at her tuned-out friend. "I've done it again, haven't I? I've bored you with the Geek Speak."

Veronica looked up and blinked. She had been tuning her out, but it had nothing to do with the amount of technical jargon that had been flung her way.

"No, Mac, sorry. You're not boring me; I just didn't get much sleep last night. Any, actually. I really appreciate you doing this for me."

Mac shrugged. "No problem. So, what was keeping you up all night?"

Veronica let her mind drift to the answer to that question, not that it was hard to get those images to rise to the surface. She was instantly transported back to that couch, with his weight on top of her, his shirt on top of hers on the floor.

_Looking back, she had been powerless to stop it. He hadn't tried to move her off the couch, probably because he knew as well as she did that if they allowed the train to slow down one of them might jump off. Jumping off might hurt her, but probably not as much as the inevitable train wreck that was going to follow. It was just so hard to think of the pain they were able to cause each other when he pressed his body against her, trapping her between the soft cushions of the couch and his hard body._

_His only redemption was that no matter how much he'd hurt her, he'd more than made up for it the night before. He spent hours making up for every tear she'd cried, every wish she'd had to forget him. He made sure she would never forget him. All the little things about him that she hadn't allowed herself to think of; the way he smiled just before he kissed her, the playful dance his fingers engaged in over her thigh before slipping under the edge of her underwear… she couldn't imagine the day would come when it wasn't all she could focus on._

"Veronica?"

She looked up at Mac again, feeling guilty for consistently being a bad friend. Not only couldn't she focus on her words, but she couldn't engage in a simple back and forth with one of the few people at the school that didn't make her want to run screaming from the building.

"I'm so sorry. I'm not usually this distracted. I've had a lot on my mind, that's all."

Mac nodded. "Sure, I get it. But you know, some people tell each other things. They exchange personal facts. Sometimes they put make-up on each other and eat massive amounts of chocolate. These people are called friends."

Veronica snapped her fingers. "I've heard of these people. I've just never been one of them."

Mac laughed. "I just mean, if you have something going on, well, it's not like I have anyone to tell. I hate this place as much as you do."

Veronica squinched her nose. "We don't have to do the make-up thing, do we? Because someone else coming at me with a sharp stick of color freaks me out."

Mac nodded solemnly. "I respect that. Seriously though, is everything okay?"

_She was on fire. She was in literal physical discomfort. She could feel him pressing between her legs, and all she wanted was for him to relieve the ache. She knew he wasn't ready now, as much as he wanted the same thing. If he gave into her now, it would be over too fast. He wanted to make sure she still tasted the same, of anticipation and lust and something more. He wanted to feel how hot she got at the apex of her thighs, and he wanted to revel in the fact that he did this to her. And he wanted to hear her say those two words…._

"_Logan, please."_

"I'm fine. Really. It's just this case, I'm really ready to solve it and put it behind me. It's one thing to solve a mystery, but this one just keeps twisting and turning and running me into brick walls. I need a new crash helmet."

"That's too bad. Well, I hope this helps. I'm sure you'll figure it out. You're the best in the biz."

Veronica took the disc and shoved it into her bag. "Thanks. So are you."

Mac smiled at her and turned back to her computer. Veronica turned to leave the computer lab, running smack into the one person that had been running through her mind all morning. He reached out to balance her, and she found herself feeling suddenly feverish.

"Hey," he smiled easily. "I was looking for you."

"Well, you found me," she said a little too cheerfully.

"When I woke up this morning, you were gone," he looked at her, something akin to concern filling his brown eyes. What worried her was that it wasn't something like concern, but that it was exactly what it was. As soon as his defenses were down around her, she was in trouble, with a capital T.

"I had to get home and change."

He nodded. "You should have woken me."

She shrugged. "I figured one of us should get some sleep," she blushed even as she thought of what had kept them both awake most of the night.

_She closed her eyes because she couldn't stand to watch him look at her with such reverence. Like her body was somehow superior to others that had come before her, and she knew many others had. He made her feel like something more than a temporary solution to an on-going problem. She wasn't in his bed because he was bored—she wasn't even in his bed. Her head hit against the arm of the couch as he moved against her, her legs wrapped around his waist so she could anchor against something to move with him. Her whole body was slick, perspiring from the inside out. His torso slid against her, and his arms slid against her back as his fingers dug into her shoulders from the backside. _

"_Nothing else feels like you," he whispered into her ear, making every last muscle in her body tighten around him. She knew then it only felt this good because it was him. _

"Besides, I had to get here early and run something by Mac. I got a number from Cliff, ran it, and managed to pull a garbled message off the voicemail. Mac slowed it down with her superhuman computer skills, and I'm off to see what I can make of it."

His pupils dilated. "Want some company?"

She looked down. "I'm just going to parse it in study hall. Don't you have class?"

He shrugged. "We need to get to the bottom of this. I feel like I need to get this behind me, right now it's hanging over my head, making me feel like I did something I didn't do. You know I didn't do it, right?"

She looked up at him. She believed in his innocence. If she didn't, she couldn't have been with him like that, could she? But then, if she believed in him so much, why had she put an end to the relationship in the first place?

"Just give me some time with this, and I'll let you know as soon as I find something. We're close to an answer; you have to trust me on that."

He nodded. "Okay. You know where to find me."

She nodded. She always did. And that was one of her biggest problems.

XXXX

"You said you missed me, right?"

Rory nodded numbly, acutely aware of each and every hickey hidden from his view. She felt the heat of each one, as if they were glowing red hot under her robe. She didn't know what she'd do if he saw one, and she backed up.

"How did you…?" she looked up at him.

"Aren't you happy to see me?"

Was she? Of course she was. He was her fiancé, after all, the man with whom she would spend the rest of her life.

"Where's your ring?"

Her heart nearly stopped. Her ring. She hadn't had it on in days. Last night she'd considered it an omen. Last night she'd wondered if he still would have been with her if she'd been wearing the two carat diamond on her left ring finger.

_She felt like a weight had been lifted. There was nothing holding her back, nothing stopping her. She opened the door to the balcony, where he was standing, smoking. He'd pulled on boxer shorts, looking out over the ocean as its white waves broke in the dark. She was still wrapped in the top sheet, five hundred thread count of pure softness to contrast the hardness of his toned muscles that had been against her just minutes before. He turned his head to look at her, just for a second, then took another drag, lighting up the tip in a blaze of amber and ash. _

"_It's beautiful out here," she leaned against the glass door._

"_I didn't want the smoke to bother you."_

"_It doesn't."_

_He looked back at her. "Oh."_

_She smiled and moved up behind him, trusting the sheet to stay tucked against her as she slid her arms around his chest. He kissed her forehead, the smoke still wafting in the air around the balcony. He reached out to snub the butt out in the ashtray on the table, and intertwined his right hand with her left. _

_She felt so free._

"I took it off, to clean it," she stammered.

"Oh. You know, I could have done that for you, when you got home. I could have just dropped it off at Tiffany's on my way to work."

She shrugged. "Mom got me some stuff, to do it myself."

He nodded. "Whatever you want, Ace. So, I was going to suggest we go out for breakfast, but since you're already undressed, maybe we should just order in," he smiled and took a step closer.

_She started to undress herself, lifting up the edge of her shirt as he lay back on the bed, but he leaned up and stopped her._

"_You in a hurry?"_

_She shook her head. _

"_Good. Come here." His smile left her no choice but to crawl onto the bed over him, her hair falling down over his face as she leaned down to kiss him slowly, taking her time. There was no need to hurry. _

She tightened her robe. "Actually, let's go out. I can show you around, we could go to the beach."

Logan looked at her for a long beat, and she wondered what exactly he was thinking. Normally after time apart, their first stop was always the bed, but she couldn't let him see her skin and the linen service hadn't come yet, so the sheets still smelled like sex and cigarette smoke. She prepared herself for a fight.

"Okay. You go get dressed, and I'll go downstairs and have the car brought around."

She frowned. "Sure."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I really missed you, Ace."

She nodded and murmured back. "Me too."

_Her lips burned from the initial contact with his. She hadn't kissed him in so long, yet it felt like yesterday. It was the same feeling of illicit lust and innocent curiosity. He tasted like the remnants of his last cigarette and … Jess. _

_He pulled back, his eyes wild, but she could tell he was trying to control his breath._

"_You don't want to do this, Rory."_

"_So what if I do?"_

_He shook his head. "Is that why you came here, to Neptune?"_

_She opened her mouth, but no reply came. _

"_I assume you didn't suddenly break up with the guy since I saw you last?"_

_She shook her head. _

"_Then why? Did you two have a fight, and I'm your revenge? Is he bad in bed?"_

_She became strangely upset about the implication. "No! He's amazing in bed. He knows my body better than I do," she spat at him._

_His mouth set into a hard line. He stepped up closer to her, running a hand up her side, coming around and barely brushing the side of her breast. "You sure about that?"_

"_I thought I didn't want to do this," she challenged him. _

"_Tell me why."_

_She braced herself. "He's amazing in bed, he loves me, and I know he's not thinking about being with other women."_

_He listened, but the heat of their kiss still remained between them. His patience wouldn't last long, and she would lose her nerve if she didn't spit it out soon._

"_But there are times when I can't stop wondering what it would have been like, to be with you."_

_He leaned in, his lips at her ear. His hands came up, brushing her cheeks with his fingers, feather-light, bone-tingling. "I won't pretend to know your body," he warned her. "But you damn sure will know every inch of it when I'm done."_

She took one last look at the rumpled bed sheets and wished she's said something before he left.

XXXX

"Where were you last night?"

Busted. She looked up to see her father standing with arms crossed, leaning against the kitchen counter. He'd been waiting for the ambush. He wouldn't like the truth, nor would he appreciate her patented lie of omission trick. But he'd hate the omission less. He's sleep at night. He wouldn't bug her phone. Come to think of it, it was the only option when your father had every means to spy on you.

"I was working."

"All night? Veronica, you're a high school student. You do remember high school, don't you?" he stepped forward.

"I went to school."

"Good! That's a start. Now, tell Daddy, where did you sleep last night?"

_She never fell asleep. He did, eventually, his body still half covering hers, half pressed into the cushions on the back of the couch. She had enough room to breathe, not crushed by him, but she wished she was. His arm was snaked around her stomach, holding her tight, making her feel like she was where she belonged. She traced his fingers, taking in every last second of this night, trying to make it last._

"At my friend's house."

"Friend? As in a girl your own age?" he looked hopeful.

"Yeah, Mac. She was helping me decode a voicemail that was too garbled to understand."

Keith stepped forward and kissed her forehead. "It's a start. Pretty soon you'll be painting each other's nails and making cookies."

"I'm sorry I made you worry," she said honestly.

"Well, I didn't worry all night. I actually just got home a few hours ago. I had a stakeout at the Neptune Grand last night."

She stopped cold. "Why?"

"A jealous, and might I add very wealthy, fiancé trying to keep tabs on his cheating girlfriend. I was out, watching the room. But it was an easy job, I got my evidence, came home, then the anxiety attacks over my missing daughter began. I have to tell you, I was a little paranoid. I almost called Logan's hotel room."

She laughed nervously. "Don't worry. I just forgot to call. It won't happen again."

"_Veronica," he pushed her hair off her forehead. "I know you don't think this can work," he kissed her, his eyes as open as his mouth. "I just don't understand why."_

_She ran her hands through his hair, kissing him yet again. She knew this wasn't the way it worked, she couldn't give in like this, let him touch her like he wanted to at night and push him away like she knew she had to when the sun broke over the horizon. She had to convince him to make the most of this night, their legs and arms wound around each other while their hearts pounded to the same rhythm. "Can't we just enjoy being here now?"_

_He kissed her again, this time he closed his eyes, sure she'd still be there when he opened them again._

She walked back into her own room, knowing that she'd left him this morning before he could leave her, and maybe that's why she'd broken up with him in the first place.


	11. The Plot Thickens

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: The Plot Thickens

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Rory emerged from her room, now fully dressed—though looking better prepared for a New England winter than for a spring day in California. She pressed her lips together and looked at Logan, who was flipping through the complimentary copy of the newspaper that had been delivered to her door before Jess had left that morning. It had been him to toss it inside and on the very coffee table from where Logan picked it up. She wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation she found herself in now, but she knew she had to talk to Jess again, and in order for that to happen Logan had to go back to Connecticut without her.

He looked up as she stood there, searching for words. He stood up, looked at her in an indistinguishable way, and walked over to her. It made her jittery, and somehow she was sure he knew there had been another man in her room the night before. She'd spent all morning trying to find a way to convince him that he didn't need to stay. She'd also spent that time wondering if Jess was content to keep their night as it was, or if he might come by to see if there was more between them.

He ran his hand up her arm and squeezed her shoulder lovingly. "I can tell you're stressed out."

She looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an on-coming car. "Stressed?"

He nodded. "I know how much you've got going on, and how much you push yourself. And while I have every confidence in you and your amazing abilities to juggle a thousand things at once, I'm not surprised you had to take a vacation."

"You're not?" she asked, not quite believing how supportive he was being.

"I mean, I wish you'd told me first, or waited 'til I got back so I could go with you, but it was a long time coming. You've got the paper, school, job applications and resumes to plan for after school, the wedding," he listed off all the things she felt guilty for skipping out on.

"I know, and I," she began, but he put his fingertips up to shush her.

"And I know you aren't ever going to back down on the marathon-style study sessions or the perfection you strive for on the paper, and getting a good job next year is your top priority, as it should be, so I've done a lot of thinking," he smiled at her in such a way she knew he'd had some huge idea that he was really excited about. Some huge idea involving her.

She swallowed. "Logan, I'm fine," she insisted.

"You're more than fine," he kissed her lightly, and then came in to kiss her in a lingering way. It was familiar and safe, being in his arms—being touched by him. She felt if she just stood there and kissed him, she could absolve herself of all her sins. "You're amazing. And I love you."

"I love you, too," she sighed into the kiss.

"I think we should elope."

She didn't register the words he'd just spoken right away. It wasn't that she didn't hear him or that his words were in any way unclear. It was more as if her mind couldn't process the statement with everything else that was already going on in there.

"What?" she managed.

He held up a hand. "I know, you think it's impetuous."

"It's…," she stammered.

"Hear me out before you say no, okay?" he looked into her eyes, seeking permission there more so than waiting for her words to give him the go ahead. He apparently found it in her blue eyes, as she never was able to utter anything further. "I've seen you listen to Emily and my mom as they go on and on about centerpieces and crinolines and why Mr. Ellis' second wife can't come because his kids are invited and therefore his first wife is coming," he paused. "And I know it's not the kind of wedding you want."

She bowed her head guiltily—not having admitted that to anyone, not Logan or even her mother. She had always known that a wedding to this man would be a societal event. An event of the year, if not the decade. It wouldn't be a small, intimate, personal ceremony. Her dress wouldn't be simple. She would be surrounded the entire time, never giving her time to bask in the moment or feel even the slightest chill of cold feet.

"It's not the kind of wedding I want either."

She looked up at him, full of hope. "It isn't?"

He squeezed both her hands in his. "I want to marry you—I don't need anyone else there. We're already in California—we could just run down to Mexico and take a honeymoon after your finals are over."

"You want to elope now?" she blinked as he continued to hold her hands and wait for an answer.

XXXX

Veronica had done a lot of stakeouts in her short life. She could go by unnoticed by those that didn't know her and weren't expecting her to be tailing their every move. She knew how far of a distance to keep between her and her prey and when to move in for the kill.

But this was a first. She wasn't trying to be innocuous, and she was getting kind of miffed that her supposed best friend hadn't yet noticed her at the end of the aisle as she watched him bend down to pick up a box of healthy cereal. Not his usual Frosted Flakes or Corn Pops—anything coated in enough sugar—but seemingly some nine grain, granola, tree bark resembling healthy breakfast alternative. She frowned, but continued to follow him as he picked up a quart of milk before moving up to the cashier where he promptly asked for two packs of cigarettes. She decided to head outside to ambush him there, since he was so focused on his odd behavior inside the market.

"You do realize that you can't combat the nasty effects of smoking with even the crunchiest bark-like food in the world, right?" she asked loudly as Wallace came out of the front door, still stuffing the receipt into the bag.

He looked up, somehow not as surprised to see her as one might have thought. "This isn't for me."

She arched an eye. "Is it for a 'friend?'" she asked, using full-on air quotes.

He smiled. "Sort of. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I'm hurt. I come to see my best friend, only to find out he's hiding other friends from me. I thought what we had was special."

"And it is."

"When was the last time you grocery shopped for me?"

"I don't know—but I do know the last time I obtained information illegally for you," he pointed out.

"Touché," she acquiesced. "Speaking of which," she hedged.

"You were all ready to make me feel guilty for not being a good friend, and you're here to ask me for a favor?" he questioned.

"Of course not! I came to find you to see if you wanted to hang; maybe catch a movie or head to the beach," she covered.

"I can't—I have to go drop this off."

"That can't take long."

"Nah, but we'll probably hang after."

"I'm getting that third wheel feeling."

"You shouldn't. We'll go play basketball. So, unless you want to be our cheerleader…."

"Are you saying because I'm a girl I can't play basketball?"

Wallace gave her a direct look. "No. I'm saying because I've seen you attempt to play, you can't play basketball. And while I haven't personally witnessed you as a cheerleader, I have tasted your Spirit Box cookies. If you cheer as well as you bake, you were a kick-ass cheerleader," he smirked.

"I should leave you to go smoke with your new buddy and laugh when your lungs turn black," she pouted for effect.

"Look, why don't you just head home and I'll swing by so you can ask me for that favor when I'm all done?"

Her phone rang, and out of habit she hit the silence button. It was the fifth missed call she'd ignored today. "I can't go home."

He raised an eyebrow again. "Why not?"

"Dad's home watching _Barney Miller_ on DVD, eating chili cheese Fritos. I can only take so much."

"So head to the office, work some cases."

"Why won't you just play with me?" she whined in the most girly voice she could muster.

He sighed as her phone rang again, only to receive the same treatment. "I'd promise to call you when I'm done, but I'm guessing you wouldn't pick up."

She sighed. "Look, if I really have to be a cheerleader, I will."

He shook his head. "This must be some favor."

"I'd rate it a four," she shrugged.

"You're really going to follow me all day, aren't you?"

"It's not called following if you would just invite me along," she prompted.

"Fine. Come with me. But no further comments about the contents of this bag."

Intrigued, she agreed. "You're the boss," she saluted as they turned down the corner in the direction of their next destination.

XXXX

"We can't get married now!" Rory blurted out.

"Why not? It's perfect," Logan truly meant what he said. He saw no reason to wait, and all she could do was think of reasons to do just that.

"We're not ready," she stammered.

"You don't want to marry me now?" he clarified.

"No, that's not it, it's just, there have to be plans and dresses and people—I can't get married without my mother there," she tried to explain, leaving out the whole uncertainty on her part thing.

"I'm sure Lorelai would understand the pressures we're under here," he assured her.

"But I want her there, Logan," she sighed. "I've always envisioned her there, next to me, dancing at the reception. Sookie making my cake. And Lane has to be there. We can't just take off. Besides, this isn't something I want to do quickly, like taking a Band-aid off."

"So, if you're not under pressure about the wedding, what's going on?"

She took a step back, thinking. This man was her fiancé. The one person she was supposed to be able to talk to about anything. Their entire relationship had been honest—at times brutally so. Maybe she could tell him about her doubts, that all these years she'd had 'what if' feelings about Jess, about the book, about just needing to see him again. And she'd forgiven him for sleeping with every person in his sister's address book while they were apart—he might understand about her elongated (and repeated) moment of insanity last night with Jess. She looked deep into his brown eyes and instantly she knew there was only one other person that could understand why she had to do what she did last night with Jess.

"I just feel like everything's so open-ended. School is over in just a few months, and I have no idea what I'll be doing. I've always had a plan, and come June, I have no plan."

It was partially true. When she pictured her life after graduation these days, she knew there would be a wedding at the end of the summer, but somehow she couldn't see anything else. It was terrifying.

His face softened. "Is that all?"

"All? Logan, it's everything!"

He smiled. "You're going to find a great job. So what if it takes a while? It's not like you'll have to work or else find yourself living on the street."

Something bristled inside her. "I know that."

"You can take your time, write a book if you want to," he suggested.

"I don't want to write a book," she screwed her face into disgust. "I want to be a reporter. I want to work, Logan."

"I know that. I think any paper would be lucky to have you."

"I just needed some time to think, clear my head," she bit her lip.

He sighed. "You want me to go?"

"I needed to get away from everything. To get some perspective," she said. At the moment the words came out of her mouth, she had a sudden flashback to what Jess must have been feeling when he left Connecticut for California. He hadn't left because he didn't love her—he left because he couldn't see what was coming next. More than ever, she knew she had to talk to him-the sooner the better.

"How much longer do you think you need?"

"Logan," she took a step, close to him, putting her body in reach of his embrace. If he just put his arms around her, he could comfort them both. "I just need to see it."

"I can see it, Rory," he said softly. "I saw it before I asked you to marry me. I assumed you could too."

She slipped her arms around his waist, encouraging a like reaction from him. "It's not you I'm looking for," she paused. "It's me."

At last he put his arms around her, holding her against him. She let him hold her, be strong for her. She knew he wanted to be in her life. All he wanted was for her to see herself in his life.

"I'll be at home when you're ready," he kissed her, softly and confidently, as if her were trying to make her feel the same vicariously. She kissed him back, wishing she could tell him she'd see him soon. Instead she just watched as he grabbed his things and went out the door of her hotel room.

XXXX

"Where are we?"

"Didn't I tell you no questions?"

Veronica sighed. "You said not to ask about the bag. I asked about our location."

Wallace shook his head. "You wanted to tag along. And besides, I'm guessing whatever you want me to do is going to be worse than not knowing where we're going."

She looked around with vague recollection. "This neighborhood looks familiar."

"Does it?"

"I've been here. Recently," she mused as they turned the last corner and the place they were headed came into view. "Why can't I remember?" she questioned herself.

"Dunno," he said, nodding toward the third small house on the block. "But just, do me a favor?"

She looked at him as if she were deciding to grant him acceptance without hearing the specific favor. "I guess I do owe you."

He nodded. "This guy doesn't like a lot of questions. Or new people. In fact, with you around, he'll probably just have me drop stuff off and leave."

Her phone rang again, and her agile fingers silenced it. "Is he a drug dealer?" she asked.

Wallace sighed. "Just come on."

He knocked on the door and as it opened, Veronica got a full flashback of why she knew this neighborhood. Her last job was standing on the other side of the door, and she watched as he greeted Wallace, not really noticing her. He opened the paper bag and then looked up… meeting her eyes.

"What's going on?" Jess asked; she assumed the question was aimed at Wallace.

Wallace, however, turned to her. "What have you done now?"

She shrugged and smiled sweetly. "Girl's gotta earn a paycheck."

"Huh," Jess shook his head, taking a defensive stance in the doorway. "I can't believe I fell for it. Hats off, though, it was the perfect set-up."

Veronica frowned. "Wait, what? What set-up?"

Jess looked to Wallace. "She follow you here?"

"Nah, man. I know her. What's going on?"

"Look, you tell Huntzberger I don't want his money. I didn't come after Rory, and it's really shitty of him to lure her into this and use that kind of leverage."

"Huntzberger?" she asked. "I've heard the name, but I don't know a Huntzberger," she started.

"Clearly you're losing your touch," Wallace muttered.

"Wait, let me think. I think my dad got a call for a job yesterday from a Huntzberger, but I don't know the specifics. What is does he have to do with Rory coming to find you?"

Jess shook his head, only slightly less disbelieving. "You don't know?"

"Well, I could find out, but it'd be much more expedient if you'd just connect the dots for me. Maybe I could even help you, if you don't piss me off first."

"I got home this morning, after having gone to see Rory," he looked away momentarily. "To a phone call from a man that apparently has pictures of us on her balcony last night—in a delicate position, to say the least. He tells me if I pursue her, he'll make my career obsolete and if I leave her alone, he'll guarantee me an obscene advance on my next book."

"Wow," Veronica shook her head. "What's it to him?"

Jess pulled out a pack of cigarettes and slid one out, lighting it up and showing relief as he took his first drag. "He's her fiancé's father."

Veronica looked at Wallace in disbelief and all he could do was shrug in response. She looked back at Jess. "Well, that certainly thickens the plot a little, doesn't it?"


	12. Out of Options

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Out of Options

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

For the first time in a couple of days, Veronica was no longer in need of working just to take her mind off of the disaster that was her love life. She sat behind the reception desk at Mars Investigations, doing her best to uncover just how the cases that she and her father had acquired had become such a twisted mess. Naturally, she was trying to smooth it out in the best interest of her client—she just wasn't sure what that entitled exactly.

She knew that Huntzberger's use of blackmail wasn't scoring him any favor in her mind, but then again, Jess had said it had been Rory's future father-in-law that had employed the firm to find proof that something had been going on between Rory and Jess. The fiancé himself could be oblivious to the whole thing. It was one thing for Rory to be undecided about her impending marriage, but the girl needed to figure out which path she wanted to take and fast.

She sighed as she reached only a voicemail box, and left a short message. "Rory. It's Veronica Mars. There has been a slight complication with your case. Please call me back at this number as soon as you can."

"Aren't you a little young to be a workaholic?"

Veronica's eyes snapped up to find that she hadn't been alone for the past few moments. She paused to get her heartbeat to stabilize before answering, but spoke after the deduction that this boy would always have a destabilizing effect on all her involuntary muscle reactions.

"What are you doing here?"

"It was becoming increasingly clear that you weren't going to seek me out."

She gestured to her desk. "I've been working."

He nodded and walked almost in an aimless fashion, though advancing on her at the same time. "All work and no play."

She closed her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't want to play with him. It wasn't even that she didn't have time to play with him. She just knew that playing with him wasn't unlike playing with fire—no matter how much fun they had, someone was going to get hurt in the end. "Logan."

"Veronica, I was there that night, too. You can't tell me that it was a mistake."

"People make mistakes, Logan. It happens every day."

"And I'm one you've made?" he demanded.

"I didn't say you were a mistake. My thinking that I could be with you was the mistake. It doesn't matter how much I want to be, it's just never going to be enough."

He was silent in the way that made her wonder if she'd just knocked the wind out of him instead of verbally expressing herself. "You want more?"

"We both deserve more. Look at what all has happened to us! Maybe we're both just too damaged by what's happened, I don't know, but the way we choose to cope with our lives; I can't handle knowing that every time something happens to me, you might end up in jail, trying to avenge me."

"You think I like reacting how I do? Jesus, Veronica, maybe if you weren't constantly going after murderers and rapists, I wouldn't be thrown into a blind rage at the idea that I wasn't there to protect you from it!"

"I know you love me," she said it quietly, looking down at her desk. She wasn't about to budge from her seat, no matter how heated the argument got. It would be too easy to fall against him and let his lips remind her that some things were worth fighting for.

"It's not just that," he said, his tone indicative that she would just never understand his motivations.

"Then what is it?"

He'd turned away and began pacing in the short waiting lobby. At long last, he clasped his hands behind his head and pulled them up over his head, mussing his hair slightly before dragging them back down to the nape of his neck. "If something happened to you," he shook his head.

Suddenly, she understood. She got up out of her seat and walked over to him. She gently placed her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest, waiting to feel his arms around her shoulders and his face pressed into her hair.

"You couldn't have saved her, Logan."

XXXX

Rory ordered another cup of coffee, causing the waitress to give her the look of someone that had ordered a vial of heroin, but the coffee came nonetheless. It was a matter of time before he came in here. She couldn't imagine him being cooped up all day in whatever place it was he called home. He was used to living in cramped spaces, and even more used to leaving them to find solace and inspiration. And he wasn't answering his phone.

Her hands were shaky by the time he finally walked in the door. He caught sight of her and paused, as if rethinking his appetite. He cocked his head down and to the side and made his way over to the table next to hers. With a sigh, she picked up her coffee cup and moved to sit across from him.

"I thought you'd have been back in Connecticut by now," was all he said as he unfolded his paper in front of him.

She bit her lip. "I had an unexpected visitor."

"No kidding? Me too."

She frowned. "You did?"

"Don't play dumb, it's not attractive on you," his brown eyes burned into her skin as he finally looked at her.

"Jess, I don't understand. Who came to see you?"

"Daddy Warbucks," he said with distaste.

"Wait. You mean…," she trailed off, growing pale as she wrapped her mind around it. She'd assumed Logan had come out here on his own—she also had no idea how they could have tracked Jess down.

"You almost made me a very rich man, if I didn't have any self respect," he informed her.

"What?" she hissed lowly, wishing he'd at least keep his voice down.

"Your fiancé's father offered me a pretty good deal to leave you alone and convince you to go back home to his son."

"Oh my God."

"I can't believe you're so surprised. I mean, the man does have more money than God; did you really think he'd stand by and watch you throw his son's plans for the future down the drain? And by the way, next time you decide you want to slum it with me, could you at least warn me that you're about to cheat on the heir to the biggest publishing empire on the East Coast, if not in the United States?"

"Jess, it wasn't like that," she pleaded.

"So, he's not your fiancé anymore?"

She had nothing to say to this. She knew she wasn't being fair to anyone in this situation. Maybe she'd been naïve as Jess said, for not thinking Mitchum wouldn't somehow get involved as he did in every other aspect of Logan's life, but this was her life.

He nodded. "Did he mention the pictures?"

Rory's head snapped up. "What pictures?"

"Of us. On the balcony. I haven't seen them myself, but if they were able to get anything incriminating, I'm guessing you would have been wearing just a sheet, and I would have been wearing even less. Sound familiar?"

She could taste something acidic coating her mouth. "They… know?"

Jess shrugged. "Maybe it's just the dad, but if you love this guy, you better run back home soon before he decides to share this knowledge with his precious son."

"Oh my God."

He shook his head at her panic. "What?"

"He didn't… say anything about… he just wanted to make sure I was okay, he wanted," she tried to go over everything Logan had said, looking for subtext of his knowing she'd spent the night with Jess. "He wanted to move up the wedding; he wanted to elope."

"Isn't that precious? Well, my guess is Prince Charming didn't know anything about it."

She nodded numbly. She looked up at Jess, searching his eyes. "What am I going to do?"

He let out a laugh. "You don't need me to tell you what to do."

"But how can I," she began, but he held up a hand to cut her off.

"How can you not see the only option, Rory? What are you going to do? Stay here with me? For what? Just, go home."

She blinked, looking at him for a moment in shock. Then she got up, grabbed her purse, and left him to read his paper alone.

XXXX

"You're doing everything you can. We both are, to try to assuage ourselves of any guilt, for actions that have been taken that were in any way associated with us. Lilly's killer will go to jail, Logan, and as soon as we find out exactly what happened to cause that bus to crash," she did her best to talk, even though she felt like her lungs were working at a diminished capacity.

"At least you know your father didn't hand down genes that make you a prime candidate to become a murdering psychopath."

"You are nothing like your father."

"Why would she have done it?"

Veronica shook her head. "I don't know."

"She knew how horrible he was. She saw," he shook his head.

"I loved her, too, Logan. I knew her faults as well as her attributes. I think she just got out of control. There wasn't anything you could have done, to have seen it coming or stop it. You're doing your part now, to get him in jail. That's enough."

"We're the only ones that understand what happened. We can help each other through this, if you'd just," he held her tighter.

She shivered. "We tried."

"So, you're done trying?"

It killed her, but she had no choice. She nodded and looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. "I have to keep searching, and you have to do whatever it is that will help you through this. I still want to figure out what happened with the crash and how Kendall fits in, if she does. Cliff gave me a little to go on, and I'm having Wallace check into another idea. There's something I'm missing here, but I'm close. I have to do this."

"Even if it means that the person who might have been trying to get to you will come back to finish the job?"

"I can take care of myself."

He stepped back and held his hands up. "Fine, Veronica. But don't think that just because we're not together anymore, I won't do whatever I feel is necessary to protect you."

"Logan," she shook her head, wanting the chance to talk some sense into him. He couldn't ruin his life to protect hers, and she wouldn't let him.

"No, Veronica. You can try to end this—pretend it never happened or tell me over and over that it can't continue, but as long as we're both still alive, there is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you."

With those words, which were enough to paralyze her with their truth, he was gone.

XXXX

"What is wrong with them?"

"I have no idea. If you ever figure that out, I'll refund your money and give you every cent in my bank account."

Rory smiled and took another pretzel out of the bowl that sat between them on the bar. "I thought I had it all figured out. I thought that if I just saw him, I'd know."

"If it were that easy, this world would be a very different place."

"You'd probably be out of a job."

"Which, ironically, might solve all my problems," Veronica clinked her glass against her companion's. "Some days, it's like it's all so clear. Impossible to achieve, but clear."

Rory nodded and chewed on more pretzels. "Do you think Logan knew about his dad?"

Veronica shrugged. "From what you've told me, they aren't exactly best buds. In fact, it's likely that the dad was just trying to protect his investments, which is how it sounds he views his son."

Rory nodded. "He does at that. It took his parents a long time to get used to the idea that he wanted to be with a woman that had career goals and aspirations beyond throwing the perfect cocktail party. In fact, they were so horrified that I'm surprised Mitchum hasn't leaked those photos all over the papers, letting Logan find out that way what a bad choice he's made."

"Sounds like Connecticut and California aren't that different, after all."

Rory nodded. "I guess not. It does sound like your Logan really does love you, though."

"If only he didn't express that affection by putting people in the hospital and could be trusted to do the right thing once in a while."

Rory let out a sigh. "At least you know what his problem is. With Jess it's like one second I can tell exactly what he's thinking, what he wants, then the next he's there, but he's vacant. Nothing I do or say can make him talk. And sometimes he just disappears altogether."

"You keep looking for him. That's got to account for something."

"My mental instability, perhaps?"

Veronica smiled. "Perhaps. So, what are you going to do?"

Rory shook her head as she stared at her hands, once again bejeweled, as she rested them on the bar counter. "Maybe Jess was right. I'm stupid for thinking there's another option. Maybe I'm stupid for thinking there was ever any other option."

"Is that option so bad?"

Rory looked up at Veronica, her face soft as she thought of the answer. "Um, Veronica? Who's that guy staring at us?"

Veronica turned to look back over her shoulder, just in time to see a tall man in a trench coat turn his back to them and head for the door. A chill went through her; she couldn't imagine why he'd be watching her now. She needed to get a hold of her father and get to a safer place—at least one where she knew he couldn't continue to follow her.

"I think it's time to go," she stood up and put some money down for their drinks. Rory looked confused at the rush, but Veronica couldn't say as she could exactly blame her. It wasn't safe to drag a complete bystander into all this, either by keeping her under surveillance or by telling her who was doing the surveillance. They got to the door, and Veronica turned to Rory.

"Where did you park?"

"I can give you a lift to your car, if you'd like," came a voice from the shadow at the edge of the building.

"No thanks, we've got it covered," Veronica said immediately, causing Rory to look to her in concern.

"Who's your friend?" the deep voice asked.

"No one you know. Let's go," she said to Rory.

"I need to discuss a matter with you."

Veronica took a deep breath. "Stop by my office tomorrow, then."

He tsked. "I'm starting to think you like doing things the hard way. Do you really want to let your friend get hurt?"

"Veronica, what is going on?" Rory sounded appropriately panicked for the situation at hand. Something Veronica had learned to keep in check in the last couple of years, given the fact that keeping her cool in the face of near total disaster had saved her life on multiple occasions.

Veronica looked into Rory's eyes and opened her mouth wordlessly.

"Don't you worry, there, Bambi. Everything is going to be just fine, as long as both of you do exactly what I say. Go on, get in the car," he opened the door and exposed the shiny metal of his gun from under his coat as he did so.

"You heard the man," Veronica said with the least amount of dread she could manage to show.


	13. Some Boys Take A Beautiful Girl And Hide

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Some Boys Take A Beautiful Girl And Hide Her Away From The Rest Of The World

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

The girls sat with their backs pressed together, their hands down at their sides and handcuffed together through the chair rails. Veronica sighed and looked at their captor.

"Is this really necessary, Clarence?"

The large, dominating man glared at her. "Don't you think it's best, given our history, to show a little respect?"

Rory turned her head to the side away from the strange man that had kidnapped them. "You know this guy?"

"Relax, I don't want this to get out of hand," he assured them.

Veronica clinked her handcuffs against the metal of the chair. "A little late for that, isn't it?"

"I've learned it's better to keep you where I can see you. All I want to do is ask you some questions."

"And the reason for dragging her along?" Veronica probed.

"You're providing the answers here, Miss Mars, not I."

Rory sat in her chair, sure only that she was definitely in a worse position here than she had been when she was simply caught red-handed with her lover by her future father-in-law's detective. She figured the worst that might happen with Logan would be he'd break up with her. She wasn't sure at all what lengths this man would go to—or why.

"Well, you seem to have my attention," Veronica spat out, clearly not impressed or outwardly concerned about the pickle they seemed to be in. It didn't seem to be the time for Rory to insist the blonde take a less casual attitude, but it was the top thought in her mind.

Clarence leaned down in front of Veronica, which allowed his gun to show through the opening in his coat. "I heard you were sniffing around Kendall Casablancas."

Veronica shrugged. "I hardly see how that would concern you."

He sneered, which was as close to a smile this man ever got. "You better be careful, Veronica. One of these days, you're going to trip into a situation you can't get yourself out of."

"Is that a threat, Clarence?"

"I don't issue threats, Miss Mars."

"Hmm. Well, in that case, I must tell you that my friend and I really aren't into anything kinky like this," she motioned with her wrists again.

"Just who is your friend?"

"I'm afraid that's confidential, although I will have to be giving her a discount after this little stunt of yours. Guess I won't be able to afford that pony after all."

"I couldn't take any chances. I do apologize, Miss," he probed.

Rory shot him a look. "I'd rather not say, if it's all the same to you."

"Clarence doesn't mind. Now, if you'll be so good as to uncuff us," Veronica cleared her throat.

"Not so fast, Veronica. There are still a few things we need to get straight."

XXXX

"Veronica!" Keith Mars stormed through the front door of his office. "Veronica, you better be here, and you better repentant."

Jess Mariano looked up from the couch to see the on-edge, middle-aged man come bursting in.

"No one's here. Is Veronica in some kind of trouble?"

Keith smiled for the prospective client. "Sorry if you've been waiting too long. My receptionist seems to be a no-show today."

Jess scratched his head. "Wait—Veronica is your receptionist?"

Keith nodded. "Well, that and my daughter. How do you know Veronica?"

Jess took pause. "Let's just say we're acquainted."

"Let's say a little more than that," Keith instructed.

"Oh, good. Someone to divert your overprotective daddy spiel to," Logan Echolls said from the door frame.

"Have you seen my daughter?"

Logan patted down his pockets. "Not unless I left her in my glove box again."

Keith glowered at the smartass teen. "What do you want, Logan?"

"I was actually just here to speak to Veronica. I don't really feel that certain closeness with you, Keith," Logan held his fingertips together in front of his mouth as he spoke.

"It's Mr. Mars to you, and don't you forget it," he barked.

"Yes, Sir," he saluted.

Jess watched the scene with a low level of interest before butting in. "So, neither of you have actually seen Veronica recently?"

Logan shrugged. "Depends on your definition of recently. And seen."

Keith looked like he wanted to growl, but instead tried to assess the situation. "Look, boys, I don't know what exactly is going on here, but you," he pointed to Jess, "you're too old for my daughter."

"What about me?" Logan smirked.

"You're too self-destructive. In fact, you're probably making my insurance premiums sky-rocket just being in my building, so if you two wouldn't mind clearing out," he make a shoo-ing motion toward the door.

"Wait, you really don't know where Veronica is?" Logan asked, his attitude giving way to actual concern.

Keith shook his head. "She isn't answering her cell, which I took to mean she was already here, working on her alibi."

"Her alibi?" Jess asked.

"She did something she shouldn't have done," Keith explained quickly.

"Could she be in trouble? Because there's a possibility she might be with a friend of mine, whom I can't seem to find either."

Keith glanced at Logan. "Who exactly is this friend of yours?"

Jess glanced down for a moment. "Rory Gilmore."

Keith paused. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"I believe she was one of your last assignments," Jess supplied soberly.

Keith paled. The thought of a job gone wrong was never far from his mind when his daughter was involved. It was his biggest fear. "You really think they're together?"

Jess shrugged. "I tried her cell and her hotel. There was no answer. You could try Huntzberger, but I really didn't want to have him think I had changed my mind about taking him up on his offer, so I haven't tried him yet."

"Damn it," Keith hurried into his office and booted up a program on his computer. Logan and Jess followed and lingered on the other side of the desk.

"What are you doing?" Jess asked.

"He's tracking Veronica," Logan explained. "I always knew you did this."

"Well, if she made slightly better choices or was a better judge of character, I probably wouldn't have bothered," Keith didn't even look up as he retorted.

"You're the boyfriend?" Jess guessed, a smirk on his lips.

Logan flicked his eyes over to the other man. "Used to be."

"And yet, he just won't go away," Keith groused.

"I've never put her in danger," Logan grew defensive.

"I don't think now is the time to debate that fact," Keith wrote down an address and stood up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go."

Jess was on his heels. "Can I ride with you?"

"If he's going, I'm going," Logan added.

"No one is coming with me. I'm going to get my daughter. If your, friend," Keith emphasized, "is in fact with her, I'll be in touch with you."

"Look, I don't know what your daughter is up to, or where she is, but I need to speak with Rory. It can't wait, and I can't go through anyone else. I'm coming with you."

"And if Veronica's in trouble, I'm coming."

Keith seemed conflicted for a moment, but erred on the side of time running out. "Fine, you can both come, but you're staying in the car. Let's go!"

XXXX

"That's not good enough."

Veronica slumped down in her seat. They'd been there for nearly an hour at her guess, and Clarence didn't seem to get the fact that she clearly wasn't going to tell him whatever it was he was hoping she knew. He obviously had no solid proof—and he obviously was short on leads for his information. If he'd learn to play nice and rely on back scratching instead of outright intimidation, he might get farther, but she figured he wasn't the type to live and learn.

"Clarence, Clarence, Clarence. Nothing is ever good enough for you."

He shook his head and glanced at his watch. "This is taking too long."

"Well, if you need to leave, we understand."

He nodded. "Good. Sit tight."

Veronica looked up, now feeling panicked for the first time. "What?"

He smirked. "I'll be back. This will give you time to think about what you know and decide that sharing it with me really is worth something to you. Ladies," he said, and then he was gone, locking them into the room where they were being held. She assumed they were somewhere in one of the Kane Software buildings, though she knew it was probably not any of the main offices. Clarence Wiedman wasn't dumb.

She could feel Rory stiffen at her back. "He's really keeping us here?"

"It's okay."

"Are you insane? How is being kidnapped okay?"

"This is just how he is. And we won't still be here when he gets back."

Rory let out a noise that signaled her disbelief. "How will anyone find us? Where the hell are we? I tried to text Logan in the car, but his stupid phone is off."

Veronica shook her head. "It's a little unsettling to hear you say Logan like that. That's your fiancé, though, right?"

"Why on earth would he come all the way out to California and beg me to elope with him, and then turn his phone off?"

"Look, I get that your views of men aren't exactly shiny and happy right now, and I can't say as I blame you. But there is one thing I do know. My father will go about five minutes not knowing where I am until he tracks my cell phone. He'll come get us."

"Your dad really runs traces on your cell?"

Veronica rolled her eyes. "It's kind of a byproduct of the job. You don't exactly become more trusting of people when you work as a PI."

Rory considered that a minute. "It's just foreign to me, I guess. My mom and I trust each other completely, and until I came here, I thought the closest I'd come to the whole 'hire a private eye and be tailed by one' was watching television."

"It happens more often than you'd think."

"Veronica?"

"Yeah?"

"Clarence has never … hurt anyone, has he?"

Veronica couldn't lie to this woman, but she hated to leave her waiting for an unknown period of time in mortal fear. "Clarence has no reason to hurt either of us. He just wants to shake me up and hope I'll tell him something so he doesn't have to break a sweat trying to find out on his own. And honestly, I don't know much more than I've already told him about Kendall Casablancas and her connection to the events that transpired last year. As far as I know, she's just a trampy gold-digger who knew some of the same people that were involved."

"You're trying to clear him, aren't you? Logan, I mean."

"I owe that much to him. Logan didn't kill anyone. He had just lost so much himself."

"So, why would this Clarence guy care?"

"I'm sure it's related to money and any connection he needs to protect the Kane family fortune from. That's his job—head of security for Kane Software. He's kind of a workaholic, you might say."

Rory sighed. "All this talk of murder makes my problems seem inconsequential."

"Yeah, well, that's generally how murder starts out," Veronica sighed. "Come on, Dad, now is not the time to play the cool dad card," she said under her breath.

XXXX

"Where are we?" Jess asked as they tracked along the back side of the warehouse complex, apparently looking for a way in.

"This is Kane land," Logan told Keith.

"I know that. I was Sheriff," he reminded him.

"You were the Sheriff?" Jess asked.

Keith shot Jess a look. "Yes, I was."

"Huh."

"We can sit around discussing our pasts some other time. Can you two at least make yourselves useful if you insist on 'helping' me?"

"There's a cracked window on the second floor. We might be able to make it from the top of the dumpster."

"See, now that is helpful," Keith said, hating that he might owe something to Logan Echolls of all people. He was more than happy to have reasons to keep his daughter away from him.

"You are carrying a gun, right?" Logan asked.

Keith frowned. "Can we please just get on with this?"

"How much trouble are they in?" Jess asked.

Logan and Keith shared a look. "Let's just get in there, okay?"

XXXX

"She did not!" Rory exclaimed.

Veronica laughed. "She did. The entire school serenaded her with 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' for a week after that, wherever she went."

"Lilly sounds like something else."

"She was. She couldn't be contained."

Rory sighed. "My best friend lived a double life too, but she finally gave up the whole Seventh Day Adventist charade and became a drummer for a band."

"Anyone I might have heard of?" Veronica asked, her emotions still tied up in the best of times and her grief of not having any more with her best friend.

"I doubt it. Hep Alien?"

"Oh my God! I just heard them, my friend Mac has every song in the world on her computer, and she was playing them all last week. They do some amazing covers."

Rory nodded. "They're always working on original stuff, but they're still pretty much known for covers. I've never seen Lane happier than when she's drumming."

"I'm not sure what made Lilly happiest. It sounds bad to say, but she enjoyed stirring things up and provoking people."

"Jess is like that, in a way. He blamed it on small town life and boredom, but he was always doing something to shock other people. But sometimes," she bit her lip, remembering back.

"What?"

"Sometimes I felt like he was doing it to get me to notice him. I know that sounds completely vain."

"Rory, please. I read his book. He loved you, even though he didn't believe in love. That's kind of powerful."

"Isn't that how Logan feels about you?" Rory pressed.

"There's just one difference. Logan won't move two thousand miles away to see if the heart grows fonder."

"Trust me, there is no amount of time or distance that can help me decide how I feel. It always feels raw and fresh."

"But you're going back to Logan, right? Your whole life is in Connecticut—school, family, wedding plans."

"I guess. Jess seemed to think it was for the best," she said quietly, like it was a verdict handed down to her.

"There is a third option," Veronica offered.

"That Clarence comes back and puts me out of my misery?" Rory offered, able to joke as it wasn't actually happening. Should it play out, she wondered if her decision between the two men would become clear.

"No. You could leave California, go back to Connecticut and not marry the rich guy. Are you really ready to marry him?"

If she was, she never got a chance to answer, as Veronica heard the sound of footsteps in the hall. "Okay, Rory, I want you to let me handle this. If it's Clarence, I'll get us out of here."

"What are the chances it's your dad?"

Veronica thought. "I'll say fifty-fifty."

And then she heard it.

Someone tried the locked door handle and a moment later an expletive was shouted.

"I don't think that's the password," a snarky voice informed whoever had tried the door.

Rory perked up. "What's going on?"

"Remember what I said about third options?" Veronica groaned.

Rory frowned. "Yeah."

"Well, it appears we are being rescued," she said with more dread than relief.

"Thank God."

"Funny, I was thinking the exact opposite," Veronica sighed as the lock was suddenly shot. Rory screamed, and Veronica scowled.

The door opened to reveal Jess, Keith, and Logan peering in at them.

"Oh, good. It's the Three Stooges."

XXXX

"You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady," Keith said to his daughter as he entered the room first.

"Yeah, yeah, first tell me you brought something useful, like a key or a hacksaw."

"Damn, and I had one in my other pants," Logan shook his head.

"Rory, what is going on? Who did this to you? Was it Huntzberger?"

Veronica gave a bitter laugh. "God, could you imagine if he's partnered up with the Kanes? It sounds like the skies might turn black the rivers turn to blood if those two ever got together."

Jess bent down over Rory's wrist and examined the handcuffs. She looked down at him with relief flooding her system and a great deal of gratitude. "How did you know I was here?"

He picked up her purse and pulled out a nail file. "We'll talk about that later."

He had their hands free in a matter of seconds. Veronica looked at him as she rubbed her wrists. "You have GOT to show me how you did that."

Keith cleared his throat. "How about we move this conversation back to the car, where the first thing we'll discuss is exactly who put you here and why?"

Veronica nodded. "That sounds fair."

"Veronica," Logan moved to stand in front of her.

"Not now," she said in a hushed tone.

"Funny, that's what I was going to say," Keith said as everyone filed out past him. He shut the door behind him. "Actually, I was going to say 'not ever,' but you get the idea."


	14. I Seem to Recognize Your Face

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: I Seem to Recognize Your Face

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Rory dared not speak first. She sat in the backseat of the car, between Jess and Logan—finding it ironic to say the least. Veronica rode up front next to her father, who stared straight ahead as he drove, his knuckles white as he grasped the wheel. No one had spoken since they got into the car, fleeing the place where their captor had held them for a short while.

The fact that no one was speaking wasn't a good sign—she was fairly sure that at least three of the people in this car were dying to do some yelling. All it would take was a soft trigger, a brief word from anyone else in the car. But not for the fact that Jess was softly rubbing his thumb over her wrists where the handcuffs had been digging into her skin, she was fairly sure that the environment had been friendlier during the interrogation she'd faced with Veronica.

Keith Mars drove back to his business and parked his car directly in front of the door to his office. "All right, everyone goes inside. Anyone have a problem with that?" he asked.

Rory looked at Jess, who shrugged. No one argued, so they piled out of the car, following at the rear into the office. Keith sat on the reception desk, and everyone else took a seat, save for Logan, who seemed not to want to get comfortable as he leaned against the far wall. Rory looked from Veronica to Logan, then back down at the floor.

"I think it's time we set a few things straight. Starting with why you two were being held by Clarence Wiedman," Keith began, speaking more to Veronica than Rory.

"It was more of a misunderstanding than anything, really," Veronica shrugged.

"Don't. Don't do that, Veronica. Don't try to play this off, pretending you weren't in danger just to spare my feelings. Getting kidnapped means you need protection. I'm your father, and I'm not going to let this one slide."

"Dad, honestly. He thinks I know something about Kendall Casablancas, but why he's interested in her is beyond me. Unless she's having an affair with Jake Kane, though, why she'd bother when she's already using Dick and Beaver's dad for his money? Maybe she's just lining up her next Sugar Daddy. Point is, he can't find what he needs, and apparently my reputation for knowing more than he does is getting to him. He just asked us a few questions and left when I didn't tell him anything he didn't already know."

"How do you play into all of this?" Keith asked Rory.

"I was with Veronica when he showed up. We were discussing," she blushed and looked at Jess. "Um, my case. Next thing I knew, we were being held in that room. It really didn't seem like we were in much danger."

"That's sweet, to try to protect Veronica, but Clarence Wiedman is a very bad man. Jake Kane didn't hire him because he had the best water-cooler one-liners. Clarence Wiedman is a fixer. There is no limit in his mind when it comes to protecting Kane's business, professional or personal."

Rory looked up to notice Logan staring so hard at Veronica that she's surprised the petite blonde didn't sink under the weight of it.

"Why didn't you call me?" Logan asked finally. "I couldn't have been far away."

"You mean, while Clarence was forcing us into his car? Uh, because I'm not sure he really would have let that fly, Logan. I've told you, I can handle myself in sticky situations," she said, with not a small amount of frustration in her voice.

"You've been seeing Logan?" Keith asked. "I thought you finally came to your senses! Geez, Veronica, are you trying to make sure I never sleep again?"

"Dad, please! Logan and I are not back together," Veronica yelled. "And what's more, I don't think this is very professional, to have this conversation in front of Ms. Gilmore, who is still, technically, a paying client, though after today's events, I'm pretty sure she won't want our services any more. And I can't blame her," she looked at Rory apologetically. "I really didn't mean to get you kidnapped. I just wanted to tell you about Mr. Huntzberger's involvement. That never should have slipped under my radar."

"Well, maybe if my daughter wasn't hiding cases from me, it wouldn't have," Keith muttered. "The two of you probably don't require our services any longer, but from what I've been able to put together, you need to get your stories straight and decide just what it is you're after. And a free piece of advice, from someone who's seen a lot of affairs go bad? They never work out well. Someone gets hurt, and that's when it ends smoothly. People do all kinds of crazy things in the wake of cheating. Ugly things."

"Right. We should go. Thank you, Veronica," Rory stood up. "Maybe I got more than I bargained for, but you did exactly as I asked."

Veronica stood and hugged Rory. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"You too," Rory said, and then turned to Jess. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

Jess nodded. "I think that's best."

XXXX

Rory stared into her coffee cup. She knew she couldn't stay in California forever. Her time here was nearing a close—for so many reasons. The least of which was had to get back to school, before she fell so far behind she would have to either repeat the semester or take time off, which hadn't worked out for her so well the first time around. Her business with Veronica was concluded, and Mitchum Huntzberger not only knew why she'd come out, but he had photographs to blackmail her into whatever outcome he wanted when it came to her involvement with his son.

Yet here she sat, with the one person who spurred her to be here, despite all the reasons she should be on a flight back east. She couldn't leave, not until she was sure, but she had no idea what that would take. After all, he'd told her to go, she'd been found out, her fiancé had shown up, and nothing had so far had worked to convince her to go, to leave him behind. All she knew for sure was that her only fear while she was being shoved into a car and taken against her will was that she wouldn't get a chance to see him again.

"Do you wish I hadn't come?" she asked, looking up to meet his eyes.

He softened. "More like… I wish it had been under different circumstances."

"This got so out of control," she breathed. "I never thought I'd even be able to find you when I first got here."

Jess leaned forward. "Why did you? Don't tell me it was just because of the book. If reading a book made you fly all the way out here and hire a private detective just to find me, then you were going to make the trip sooner or later."

Rory looked away. "Probably. It's not the first time I've thought about it."

"And was it everything you'd hoped it would be?" he asked, his tone flippant, but with an edge of need.

She narrowed her eyes. "Exactly what circumstances would you have been happy to see me?"

"For starters," he leaned forward again, lowering his voice so that only she could hear, unless this Huntzberger big-shot had them bugged. "It would have been appreciated if you didn't show up engaged to someone else, only to fuck me, get my ass in boiling water, and then go back to your life as soon as you know they have us all by the balls."

"I'm still here, aren't I? Do you know how many people have told me to go home? My mother, for starters, thinks this is a monumentally bad idea, and she doesn't even like Logan. Logan showed up and tried to talk me into eloping to Mexico with him, and then there's Mitchum—God knows if he wants me to be with Logan or if he's thrilled to be rid of me finally if he so desires," she shook her head.

"Boo-hoo, Rory, so things aren't all rainbows and gumdrops in your life," he shot back. "That doesn't excuse you coming out here and pulling me into it."

"So, now you're pissed at me? I mean, I get that you have a right to be upset about the photographs and the bribery attempts, but I didn't do that! I had no idea I was being spied on!"

"Lower your voice, will you?" he said as they were garnering looks from those around them in the busy coffee shop.

"You know what, never mind. Goodbye, Jess," she stood up, shaking the table as her knees hit it, and stormed out. He threw money on the table, jumped up, and raced after her. It didn't take him long to reach her on the street.

"Rory, stop!" he said, catching her elbow as gently as he could, yet still using enough force to hang on to her.

"Clearly I'm just a complication," she shook her head harshly.

"Listen to me," he stopped. "Do you know what it felt like, sitting in that office, to find out that you were most likely taken and were in danger—not just emotional distress, but honest-to-God danger," he closed his eyes.

"You saved me," she reached out and touched his cheek.

He shook his head and grabbed her hand. "It seemed so simple at that moment. Find you. At all cost. I've never felt anything so strongly."

"Jess," she swallowed hard. Everything was at the surface again. She was starting to realize that how she felt for this man would never be able to be classified. She was looking for something to be enough, to be manageable. What she felt for Jess, what he had to offer her—it wasn't going to be contained. It was always going to overwhelm her, nearly drown her, and just when she thought she could take no more, it would shelter her and give her a place to breathe and grow.

"I know it's not that simple," he managed. "I'm not an idiot. I know we've both done our share of hurting each other. But doesn't that have to count for something?"

"I think it might mean everything," she breathed, wrapping her hands around his neck, pushing herself up on her toes to brush her mouth against his, right there on the sidewalk, with people passing by without giving them a glance. He kissed her back, holding her jaw in his hands, finally able to do what he'd wanted to the moment he saw her sitting handcuffed to the chair. For the moment, she was safe, and she was with him, and that is all that mattered to either of them.

XXXX

If this was a staring match, no one knew who was winning. The three of them remained in the office, not saying a word, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Veronica sighed. "Do you want an apology?"

"That would be a great place to start," Keith began.

"How do you know she wasn't talking to me?" Logan asked.

"What has my daughter ever done to hurt you? You're the one that does the hurting," Keith all but bared his teeth. "So, maybe you should go, before I start giving you some much-deserved payback."

"Dad, stop," Veronica stood up, moving between the two. "It's more complicated than that."

"It's not complicated, Veronica. When someone hurts you, you leave. End of story."

"Really? Then why did you stay with Mom?" she shot back.

Keith looked like she had shoved a dagger into his chest. "Oh, Veronica. You cannot begin to understand the problems that adults face. I know you guys have been through a lot, things that kids shouldn't have to deal with, but that does not make you qualified to pass judgment on me. I have always done what I thought was best for my family. I will always do what I think is best for my family, and whatever it takes to keep you safe."

"I am safe, Dad. I'm here. I'm fine. I'm sorry you had to come save me, but after all we have been through, I'd hope that you could see that I do need to make my own decisions. Everything isn't always cut and dry."

"So, what, you want to be with this guy?" Keith gestured to Logan.

"I'm just saying that if I did, it would be my decision. And I would hope you could respect that."

Keith looked from his daughter to Logan. "I need some air. I'll see you at home. And if I don't, there will be FBI involved in the search. Am I clear?"

Veronica nodded. "Crystal."

After her father walked out, she turned, took a step to Logan and hit him as hard as she could in the arm.

"Ouch! What the hell was that for?" he yelled.

"I'm not sure. I felt like I either wanted to kiss you or hit you, and I figured this was the safer option."

He rubbed his arm. "That depends. How violent was the kiss going to be?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Goodbye, Logan."

He shook his head. "I want to know what really happened. Is this Wiedman guy coming back for you?"

Veronica shook her head. "No. I mean, Kendall clearly has ulterior motives, but I know she wasn't involved in the bus crash. But Wiedman's involvement makes me think that maybe Jake Kane has interests that are involved."

"Why is he so interested in Kendall, though? I mean, she's a gold digger, but she doesn't have her sights set on Kane. She's got a pretty sweet deal going right now. She's got enough patience to hook a bigger fish after she's done with Casablancas, but not before."

"Maybe she wanted Dick and Beaver out the way so she would get all his money?"

"No way would is she going to wait until he dies to collect her cash. She's not the old-fashioned type. She's looking to take him to the cleaners through a divorce, stealing from their inheritances, not the other way around."

Veronica sighed. "Then I'm stumped. For now. And officially hungry. Being interrogated is exhausting."

Logan eyed her. "Tell me about it."

She shook her head. "That's it. Just for that, you're buying."


	15. One Way or Another I'm Gonna Lose Ya

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: One Way or Another I'm Gonna Lose Ya

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

The answer was out there. In fact, if she got any closer to it, it would probably bite her on the ass. It was a scenario she was all too familiar with. The other situation most likely to bite her in the ass—more specifically the person most likely to do the biting—was seated across from her in an open-aired restaurant's booth, a plate of French fries and their past between them as their sandwiches were long since devoured and conversation heady.

"Thank you, Veronica," Logan said, looking at her from his laid-back position, his arm around the empty booth space next to him, his feet stretched out across the bench seat.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Not that I don't always appreciate people heaping gratitude on me, but it's a little preemptive this time. I haven't quite connected all the dots."

"No," he stared off at a point past her for a second before leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table as he propped his chin up on his fists, looking in her eyes. "For standing up for me in front of Keith."

Veronica sat a little straighter, but not out of pride. She could feel the fight building up in her. "I didn't do it for you, or us, even. I did it for me."

He studied her. "You want me to believe it was purely selfish, your not letting your dad taser me?"

Her lips upturned at the visual. "Sadly, I don't think he would have actually tasered you unless he found you trying to mount me in his house."

He didn't seem to find that visual funny. He licked the corner of his mouth, and she instantly felt a tug in her stomach. He was the only man in the whole world she could imagine that could make her dizzy with want, not only without touching her, without words even; but also in public with a platter of nearly cold French fries sitting between them.

Yeah, this was definitely going to bite her in the ass.

"I just mean, he's not likely to hurt you. Especially since we're not dating anymore."

"No, but I have mounted you recently," he pushed.

"Logan," she closed her eyes and shook her head. "That was a moment of weakness, at best."

He took his napkin, wiped it across his face, and put it down on his plate. In a smooth motion, he slid out of his side of the booth and back into her side. He put his outstretched arm around her, not gripping her shoulder, but sliding it across the top of her shoulders. His body was solid and warm against hers. "I make you weak, huh?"

"It's not something to be proud of, Logan," she said, her head turned toward him, but her eyes only making it as far as his lips.

"I respectfully disagree. The two of us together, that's one of the only things in my life that I think I could be proud of."

She took a deep breath. "I need to get home. I might want my independence, but I can't push Dad too far after the day we've had."

Logan grazed her head with his nose, and then she felt him let out a breath against her hair as well. "Okay. Let me take you home."

"You don't need to," she assured him.

"Let me rephrase. I'm taking you home."

She studied his face. She saw the familiar expression on his face, one she was all too acquainted with—the same one he'd had when he busted into the room to find her handcuffed earlier today.

"You can't tell me that no one is out there, waiting to grab you again. And if I can prevent that, and I didn't," he shook his head. "Come on, let's go."

She followed him to his car without protest. No matter what she did, she wasn't going to shake Logan, not right now anyway. She wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse, but for the moment, she was just going to let it ride.

XXXX

Rory sat on the balcony, watching the waves crashing back into the shore. The sand was smooth as the water retreated, having been pounded back after a day of people moving through it—kicking it up as they ran through or trying to mold it into creations of their own making. No matter what happened each day, the water took control back every evening, washing it all away and creating a blank slate.

Maybe that's what she could have now. She pulled out her cell phone, steeling herself to make the call. Was she really going to do this? No, she should go home, at least to face what needed to be done. Or undone. She couldn't believe the possibilities she was allowing herself to imagine. Moving to California. Never in a million years would she have considered doing that. She would have to uproot everything—transfer schools, get a job, a place to live—start a whole new life.

As the wind whipped around her, she suddenly realized that she was all alone. Jess had made no promises to her. He didn't even know that she was considering any of this. When they parted, after their kiss on the street, all they'd agreed upon was that they would keep the lines of communication open, after she'd made some decisions.

Was she really willing to give up everything—and truly, it felt like her whole world—for a man that, while she was sure he had strong feelings for her, hadn't asked for her presence in his life? She'd come out here to find answers in regards to him; to find out if she needed closure or more than that. Was she following her heart, or after her life had been seemingly threatened, was she transposing relief for loyalty and closeness to Jess? Would she feel the same way toward Logan, her Logan, if he'd been the one standing with the two men in Veronica Mars' life, on route to save her from her captor?

She began to feel the chill in the night air, noticing that more and more stars were starting to shine in the darkening sky. What she needed was to sleep on this decision. Her head was too full—the experiences she was going through too fresh. And if she was going to walk away from Logan-her fiancé—then she had to be more than certain that what she felt was deeper than relief to be safe or a night of pent-up sexual release.

She turned her phone off and climbed under the covers alone. As she turned off the light, she laid awake, losing yet another night's sleep over the man she just couldn't seem to get completely out of her mind.

XXXX

Veronica put her hand on the door release, but stilled as Logan put a hand on her knee. She turned to face him, at a loss for words. She didn't want to argue with him again, and she didn't want to talk about her reservations. He knew what she was afraid of, just as she knew his deepest fears. It was one of the reasons she was having so much trouble staying away from him. Sometimes it felt like he was the only one who really understood what she was going through.

"It almost seems normal, doesn't it?" he asked.

She frowned. "What?"

He smiled wistfully. "Just two teenagers, returning home after having dinner out at a local joint, the boy distracting the girl from leaving the car, hoping for just a few more seconds before she has to go back into her house."

Her heart beat raced. "But we were never your average Dick and Jane."

"I never understood the desire to be normal. But I can't help feeling like I can't let you leave without doing this," he spoke as he leaned in and kissed her. She fell into the heat of his lips, the stroking of his fingers at the nape of her neck. She smiled into his neck as his lips strayed to her cheek, her neck. Suddenly, she found herself in a losing situation. She couldn't stay and she didn't want to leave.

"I have to go."

"Just tell me you don't want to," he pleaded, his ability to read her uncanny and more than a little detrimental to her well-being.

She looked into his eyes and kissed him this time. It was short, but strong. She was rallying. But only for a moment. "The truth is, Logan, I never want to leave you. But that isn't a reason to stay."

She left him with that thought, slipping out of his car and safely into her apartment where her father was waiting up for her. She just wished that both men could be satisfied with the fact that they'd both accomplished their goal of keeping her safe, but knew better than to ask for anything in her life to be so simple. She went to bed, hoping things looked clearer in the morning.

XXXX

Lorelai Gilmore stepped into the office and looked around. There was a desk at the far end of the long room, which looked like it was used regularly, but that was currently unattended. There was a door just to the side, which boasted the name of the man behind this apparently one-man operation. She knocked on the door, briskly, and folded her arms over her chest to wait. She was going to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

Keith Mars opened his door and stared at the brunette with the piercing blue eyes. He had the sense that she was familiar to him, but he couldn't place how; surely he would have remembered a woman of her ilk, had he come across her before. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, but he stood up a little straighter and put a smile on his face.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes," she huffed. "You can tell me exactly where my daughter is."

Keith scratched at his chin. "Well, we do find people here, that's one of our many services. Care to sit down? I can offer you water or coffee, though to be honest, there isn't much difference between the two," he warned as he walked into his office and sat behind his desk.

"I'm not here to hire you," she shook her head, having opted to remain standing in a defensive position. "My daughter hired you recently. She's out here, but she's not answering her cell phone and she's not on her way home, and it's urgent that I get in contact with her."

Keith frowned. "Who is your daughter?"

"Rory Gilmore. She flew out here from Connecticut to have you find her stupid, Rebel-Without-A-Cause ex-boyfriend. And if I can go on record here, it wouldn't have been the worst thing for you to have failed that in particular duty. Anyhow, things have gotten more complicated the longer she's been out here, and I need to talk to her as soon as possible. Do you have an address for her somewhere, or," she looked at him expectantly.

He had to admit, he was a little impressed. Here was a woman whose grown daughter had failed to call her back, and thus flew cross-country to badger the one person that might have a more direct means of reaching her. And here all he'd ever done was track the GPS chip in his juvenile (chronologically, though, he had to admit, not in any other way) daughter's cell phone to find her when she went off the grid. In his defense, Veronica went off the grid far too often—and it was either track her or end up in the loony bin far before his time.

"Look, Mrs. Gilmore," he began.

"Miss."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm Miss Gilmore. Lorelai, actually, but definitely not Mrs. Mrs. Gilmore is my mother, and frankly, the only way to screw this mess up further would be to get her involved. So help me, if that woman calls you, under no circumstances are you to say a damn word. Well, actually, it works best if you just pretend to speak only Spanish. Do you speak Spanish? I could spell out some phrases phonetically for you. And you should take down her name, Mrs. Emily Gilmore. G-I-L-," she began, but he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, Miss Gilmore—Lorelai," he interrupted. "I don't think this is really information I'm going to need to remember."

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's not really wise to underestimate Emily Gilmore."

"Nor would it be to underestimate you, I would imagine. Or get on your bad side."

She arched an eyebrow in appreciation. "You catch on quick. So, since you're attentive and you found my daughter's deadbeat hermit of an ex, I will assume you know where she's staying. Can I have the address?"

"I can do you one better than that," he said, standing up to walk to his office door. "I will escort you there myself."

Lorelai smiled at the private investigator. "Does this violate some sort of client privilege?"

He shrugged. "I'm considered to be on the other side of the law. Besides, I've met your daughter. She seems like a good kid. And the ex-boyfriend did seem like the kind of guy that would make me fit my daughter for a chastity belt and look into building of those towers that are only constructed in fairy tales if he ever came sniffing around her."

Lorelai smiled at him. "This might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

He offered his hand. "I don't think you allowed me to properly introduce myself. Keith Mars. Now let's go find your daughter."

XXXX

Logan opened his door, not having bothered with dressing first. It was early—and not just early for him. It was a Saturday, and if he didn't bother to set an alarm on school days, he sure as hell wasn't going to be in a hurry to greet the day on a Saturday, whose confines were currently wide-open to his imagination. The moment someone knocked on his door, he let out a few choice words about not having requested maid service at the crack of dawn, and had left the look of discontent on his face as he swung the door in to see who might be waiting on the other side.

That all changed as soon as he saw who had come to call.

"To say this is a surprise doesn't quite cover it. Shall I click my heels?"

Veronica crossed her arms. "Slow down, Seabiscuit. This isn't a social call."

"If I'm good, will you give me some sugar?" he raised his eyebrows at her.

"Nevermind. New plan. I leave, you go locate some pants, a shirt, and some footwear, and meet me at the Hut in a half an hour."

"Afraid I won't get served?"

"I think I've figured something out," she explained.

"And I think we should explore our conversation from last night."

"It's a good thing I don't give any berth to what you think," she said, still standing on the opposite side of his doorway.

"Then why are you here? Come on, do you really have a theory that can't wait until normal people are awake, or did you want to come to my room when you knew I'd be half dressed and possibly still too asleep to count the events that transpired as anything more than a dream?"

"You can't possibly dream. Your ego takes up too much space in your head," she shot back.

"Would you like to hear the dream I was just having? Ironically, you were in it," he pressed, fixing her to her spot in the hallway with his gaze.

"I would not," she managed.

He opened the door wider. "I could just show you. You will have to disrobe to get the full effect," he said, putting the emphasis of the last syllable.

She swallowed. The elevator pinged, and she took both hands, pushed against his bare stomach and hurried into the space he'd been occupying, closing the door quickly behind her.

"I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking," he murmured.

"Did the thought that I don't want to be seen with you really never cross your mind?"

"It's never stopped you before," he shrugged. "Any other excuses or are you ready to admit you just wanted to be alone with me?"

"I'm sorry. I thought you wanted to get to the bottom of this mess as badly as I did. My mistake," she said, moving to the door. He reached out and easily caught her hand.

"Wait here. You were much more fun in my dream."

"Reality bites. Did you never see that movie?" she shot back.

XXXX

Keith stood back as Lorelai knocked on her daughter's door. She tapped her foot impatiently, relieved to know that at least Rory hadn't checked out. The brief fear that entered her mind was that Rory had stayed over at Jess' place—or worse, he might open the door wearing less than her next door neighbor deemed appropriate to nip outside to retrieve the paper in.

After a moment of waiting, Rory opened the door, fully dressed and her purse on her arm. "Mom?"

"Going somewhere?" she asked, noticing the purse but the lack of luggage.

"Uh, yeah, actually, I was going to get coffee," she began. "Hi, Keith. Is Veronica okay?"

He nodded. "I was just getting to know your mother. I see where you get your, well, everything," he said with proper appreciation.

"Thanks," both women said in unison. "So, can I join you for coffee? I haven't had any since last night when I tried to harass Jess' contact information out of Luke. Ten cups, six choruses of Lady Gaga's _Born This Way_, four hours of occupying a table for four, and two threats to sign him up to play Santa this year for the Holiday Extravanza, and still he wouldn't crack."

"You drank ten cups of coffee?" Keith asked.

Lorelai looked at him and blinked, continuing with a straight face, "It's really, really good coffee."

"I can't."

Lorelai and Keith looked to Rory as she spoke. "Can't what?" Lorelai inquired.

"Can't bring you with me. I'm… meeting someone."

"You can't be serious. Rory, after everything that happened—you have to see that this was not worth the trouble. Maybe you can finally forget him, having seen him, and," she cleared her throat, not caring about Keith hearing the details of her daughter's indiscretion so much as not wanting to even give it thought herself. Lorelai had feared that they'd get physical the moment she found out where Rory had gone. That wasn't the reason she'd rushed out here, however. Once Rory had confessed that she'd been found out, and that the elder Huntzberger had blackmail material and was leaning on Jess to walk away-despite the fact that she thought that was the best thing Jess could ever do to her daughter (as he'd done twice before—she hoped third time was the charm)—the thought of someone spying on her daughter and trying to interfere in her life in such an obtrusive way sent her over the edge. She could not remain silent or still.

"Mom, I know you mean well, but," she shook her head.

"No! Rory, stop. Wait. There's something you need to know. Before you talk to anyone else. This is important," she took a deep breath, waiting to see if Rory was going to argue.

"I should go," Keith stepped back.

"No, you can stay. It's not like you don't know the rest of this story anyhow," Lorelai assured him. "Rory, I went to Mitchum. After you called me, I went to see him, to yell and scream and threaten him with anything I thought would make him cower and back the hell off."

"You did what?" Rory asked, looking ashen. "Oh my God."

"It wasn't him."

Rory looked up, now looking like someone had punched her in the stomach. "What do you mean? Jess was lying?"

Lorelai shrugged. "I'm not going to call him a liar. All I know is that Mitchum had no idea what I was talking about. I didn't nail down specifics, I kept it to spying on you and trying to push his hand, but still… the man had no idea what I was talking about. I'm sure he's told his fair share of bold-faced lies as well, but I believed him. So, either Jess was lying, or someone else posed as Mitchum to put an end to this."

"Who would do that?" Rory asked, her voice full of panic, anger, and worry. "No one else knew I was here!"

"Maybe you should keep your coffee date after all," Lorelai said softly. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" She turned to Keith. "Do you have a gun or … oh, a taser? I must admit, I've always wanted to use a taser on that kid. Technically, I think I've been envisioning a cattle prod, but how many people carry those on them?"

"I think it's best if I go alone. Can you stay here, though?" Rory asked.

Lorelai sat down. "I won't move from this spot."

"I bet you'll have to go the bathroom. Ten cups of coffee," Keith said, shaking his head in amazement. "You'd never survive a stake out."

"How else do you stay awake?"

"I drink coffee, but in a situation like that you have to heed to some moderation. Perhaps you need to learn some moderation in general, with consumption like that."

Rory looked at them with a furrowed brow. "Right. Well, if you two will excuse me, I need to go cross-examine Jess."

Lorelai stood up. "Take no prisoners! Give him hell! Don't stop til you get enough!"

Rory frowned at her. "Really?"

Lorelai shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm a little jetlagged. I'm off my game. But if you do need to taser him, I'm happy to volunteer."

Rory looked at Keith. "Please don't let her touch your taser. You won't like the results."

Keith looked at Lorelai. "The one thing I'm sure of is that she doesn't need a taser to stun anyone."

Lorelai beamed. "He gets me."

Rory sighed. Keith looked at her and nodded. "Just go sort this out. I'll stay with your mom and keep her company."

Rory nodded and left the room. She pressed her back into the door and closed her eyes, shutting them tight. Everything she'd been so sure of when she woke up a short time ago was now turned upside down. She'd called Jess just five minutes before her mother showed up at her door, and he'd actually sounded pleased to hear her voice. She thought that this might actually be their chance at a new beginning—or at least the best shot at finally giving it a real go. Now instead of their early morning meeting being a claim of happiness, it was going to be fraught with mistrust and finger pointing. All she knew for sure was that someone was lying, and it made her sick to her stomach that the man that she knew she loved more than she felt it reasonable to love anything might be the one that was lying to her face.

It just didn't make sense to her. She opened her eyes and set off, determined to find some truth. At this point, she would lose everything else if she couldn't separate truth from fiction.


	16. No Matter What I Say

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: No Matter What I Say

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Rory Gilmore had been wrong before. She'd done things that she knew were wrong; she'd fallen and gotten hurt. Some of her greatest missteps had been inevitable, but the hardest to take, to recover from, had been those in her control. When she took matters into her own hands and only came out with ruins and pain, it caused her to withdraw, to question everything.

She stood on the street, outside the coffee shop that she'd only known in his presence, fearing that due to her own actions, she was on the verge of bringing all the walls down around her. It was already quite apparent that something had gone wrong—horribly awry—with her trip. Perhaps if she'd thought this out more, if her mind hadn't been so confused concerning her need to find Jess one last time, she wouldn't have become wrapped up in so many lies, so many questions, and so much distrust. Just the thought that Jess could be the one lying to her—it felt like she'd taken an arrow to the chest. She could think of no reason for him to lie to her, unless he really just wanted to get rid of her and be left alone. It wasn't a complete stretch of her imagination, for him to want his solitude. But if he'd ever really cared about her, the way that her intuition told her he had, then he could have at least told her the truth. She would have left, accepted that there was no more left for them to share. She wouldn't be standing there, on the street, hoping against hope that he wasn't about to break her heart again, in ways she wasn't sure she could recover from.

The only thing that gave her the strength to go into the coffee shop to meet him was the one hope she'd always held, perhaps naively, that he wanted the same thing she did. That like her, he hadn't the means to properly express it or the circumstances to believe that they could make it last, but that damn it, he wanted them to just have a chance. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and looked up to see him sitting at a table, reading a book. He had a cup of coffee in front of him, so far ignored, as he knew of no better way to pass time than to sink into another world. A world that was kinder than his own, as it had no bearing on his actions, save for making him want to turn the page to find out what fate awaited the characters. If asked, he would never say he read for fun. His reading was viewed as more a necessary vice, like some people chewed their fingernails or watched television. It was his way of getting through the hours in life that otherwise would be filled with uncertainty or thoughts that he wasn't ready to deal with. At the current moment, he was doing his best to avoid thinking that she might just not show up at all.

"Good book?" she asked as she slid into the seat across from his.

He looked up at her, a smile easing over his features before he took his eyes off the page. Got to finish that last sentence, she knew. She was the same way. She'd spent countless hours trying to finish a paragraph while half-listening to her mother speak at length about pointless issues, mostly in the name of distracting her daughter.

"It's not terrible."

"A real page-turner, then?"

He closed the tome and put it to the side. "You can borrow it when I'm done. How's that?"

She studied his face. Would a man that wanted her gone keep up such a ruse, offer to lend her books that she wouldn't be around to borrow? Why be nice to her at all? She could understand why he might sleep with her—she wasn't completely daft. But the kiss yesterday; that was what shook her. How could he have kissed her with such promise, only to expect her to fall to the idea of being blackmailed into going back to a life without him?

"You okay?" he asked when she remained silent.

"I don't know," she admitted.

He looked around a moment, and then moved to sit in the seat that was nestled at the table between them. "What's going on?"

She closed her eyes. How could she question him? She knew that just because she wanted to believe him didn't mean that he was beyond reproach. She'd trusted him in the past, and it had taken its toll, when he let her down. But even then, he hadn't truly lied to her. He'd just been afraid of causing her more pain. He'd been sure that no matter what he'd said to her back then, it was just never going to be enough. He had let her go, so she could excel without trying to be tethered to his mistakes. Yet here they were, all tangled up in knots once again.

"It… wasn't Mitchum," she finally said, looking into his deep brown eyes.

He frowned. "What?"

"You said you talked to Mitchum Huntzberger, Logan's father, and he offered you money to stay away from me. Except Mitchum didn't speak to you—he had no idea about any of this."

"Then who called me?"

She frowned. "I thought you saw him."

He shook his head. "No, I never said I saw the guy. He told me who he was, he was very clear on the phone. I told him to go to hell, that he had no idea what he was talking about, and then he said he had the pictures. I didn't believe it at first, but he described the hotel, and," he closed his eyes. "Look, someone knows about us. If it's not his father, it was someone working for him."

She didn't want to ask her next question. It was a breach of trust, somehow. In her coming here, she had implied that many things between them hadn't been forgotten, but forgiven. And this was only going to work to break what fragile bonds they'd rebuilt.

"But, it," she paused, taking a deep breath. She had to know. "It happened, though, right? It wasn't just any easy out, a way to get back at me for telling you Logan came to see me?"

He took in her questions, her reservations, the dark things she knew he was capable of, even if he did his best to separate her from how he viewed the rest of the world. After all, he still had faith in her, after all this time. Apparently she wasn't extending him the same benefit.

"I'm not going to keep proving myself to you. If you don't trust me, then why do you keep seeking me out?"

"I do trust you. It's just, I had to know, for sure. If you're telling the truth and Mitchum didn't call you, then I don't understand who's behind the attempt to buy you off."

Jess shook his head and snorted in derision. "Really? No idea? He must have you completely fleeced."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her defenses back on the rise.

"You really need me to spell it out for you? Do you think it's a coincidence that your fiancé was out here, followed you to your hotel room, and pushed the issue of eloping right away, right around the same time I was contacted to make it worth my while to leave you alone? Put two and two together, Rory. Mitchum Huntzberger probably had nothing to do with it, other than having his son borrow his name to throw some weight behind the offer and to keeping the golden boy's halo a little cleaner should you find out about it."

Rory blinked as the picture Jess had painted her became clear. "You think Logan knows? That he hired Mr. Mars—he has pictures of us," she closed her eyes. "But why would he want me to elope with him, knowing that," she wondered aloud.

"In case you hadn't noticed, the world he lives in isn't just filled with nicer stuff and servants. The whole mindset is different with the rich. He wants what's his—affairs aren't deal breakers. He cares more that I back away from you, knowing he's taking something I want, and marrying you is sealing his victory."

"He doesn't even know you," she shook her head.

"It doesn't matter, Rory. How can you not trust me, but tie yourself to a man like that for the rest of your life—or until his mid-life crisis when you can't take his screwing around anymore," he shook his head. "And spare me the act of defending him. I don't care how much you think I don't know him or he couldn't have possibly been behind this. That's your mess to sort out. I'm done here."

He stood up to leave, not only to walk out of the restaurant with his coffee untouched, but out of her quickly dissolving life. Her reality, as she'd come to know it, had shifted. She stood up and hurried after him. He wasn't slowing; he wasn't looking back.

He stopped at the crosswalk, the traffic too heavy to allow him to jaywalk. She stopped just short of him, looking at him, but he didn't look her way. "Jess. Talk to me."

"If you want to put the blame on me, pretend I'm the one that's lying to you, that's fine. But I'm not going to sit around and take it. I don't want to be with you at that kind of cost."

She heard all he said, but she held fast to only part of it. "You want to be with me?"

He didn't walk across the street, though he got the all clear from the signal. "I can't be a part of all that drama, Rory. I never signed up for any of that. I want you—I don't want to get into a pissing contest with a guy with deep pockets and no morals."

"I had to ask, Jess. Please understand that. I just had to make sure. Mom came to my room and told me she'd talked to Mitchum, and I was on my way here to tell you that I had made up my mind. I just had to be sure first."

"Jesus, Lorelai's here?" he shook his head.

"Please come with me," she implored, her eyes wild and needful.

He looked at her like she had just told him she was carrying the Easter Bunny's love child. "Where?"

"To my hotel room. Mom and Keith Mars are there, waiting for me to get back. I'm going to talk to Logan and clear this up. But no matter what happens with him, I'd like you to be there afterward."

He didn't answer her right away. She reached out and took his hand. "Please, Jess. I spent all last night imagining that this could really happen. That you and I could work. If you walk away now, then he gets his way and you don't even get the added benefit of taking his money. If he's really behind this, he doesn't care about me, or losing me. Everybody loses."

He grinded his teeth, popping his jaw to the side. "Fine. But you keep your mother at bay."

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. "You'll come with me?"

"Now it's me who's fleeced," he said with a wry smile.

She stroked his cheek. "I promise I will never lie to you."

He took her hand from his cheek and brought it to his lips. "I know. Come on, let's go before your mother hires Mr. Mars to find you."

XXXX

Veronica sat in the passenger seat of Logan's Hummer for the second day in a row. This time he wasn't taking her home, but against his better judgment he'd brought her to the home of a friend of his, to see if her hunch had any validity. He'd put up enough of a fight for coming here; what she had to say next was going to send him through the sunroof.

"I'm going in there alone."

Logan looked at her and laughed. Then he laughed some more. Finally, he calmed and just shook his head. "Over my dead body," he said seriously, his eyes were steadfast, his voice low and even. "First of all, you've never had a conversation with Dick that didn't end in you proving what a moron he is, which isn't difficult, but it doesn't help in the whole getting him to tell you anything angle, and secondly, if you are correct, then there could be a killer in the house. I'm coming in with you."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but exactly how will having you in there with me make me safer?"

He leaned in, over the console that separated them. "I will keep you safe. I'll keep you from pissing off Dick, which might get you some useful information, and I'll get you out of there at the first sign of trouble. I know that house intimately. If you really think your hunch is correct, why don't you just let the cops or your dad know?"

She peered at him in confusion. "Are you crazy? Yeah, I'll just call Sheriff Lamb right now. I'm sure he's on the edge of his seat, waiting for my call. You know, last time I helped him solve a case and put the correct people behind bars, he gave me the key to the city," she rolled her eyes. "I can't just tell them anything without hard proof. I practically have to gift wrap it and show them a receipt of goods sold before they believe anything that comes out of my mouth."

"I thought you were dating that cop," he cleared his throat, clearly not the biggest fan of her dating anyone other than himself.

"Leo? Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure my getting him suspended with pay probably didn't endear me to him. I do sort of have that effect on boys—once they get in trouble for doing my dirty work, they tend to shy away from me."

"What about me?"

"You are my dirty work," she said without thinking, but it instantly shifted the mood in the car.

"Please call your dad," he closed his eyes, as if he was too weary from just being in her presence.

"I can handle this myself. Logan, I know you seem to think that I can't take care of myself at all, and I need protected and saving or whatever misguided macho need you seem to have since Lilly died, but you're not the only one that changed. I carry a taser in my bag. I know what I'm doing. I'm going in there, and I need you to trust me."

He sat back and rubbed an open palm over on side of his face, finally snaking it through his hair. "Fine. But if you're not out of there in five minutes, I'm coming in."

She put her hand on his. "I could be wrong."

"Except you never are. I don't like this, Veronica."

"Admitting that I'm right?" she teased.

"Watching you run toward danger, all the time. And always away from me."

"If I can end this," she closed her eyes, not wanting to get emotional before heading into that house. "Maybe we," she hesitated at using the two most dangerous words in her vocabulary at the moment. The possibility of them was still enough to crush her under the weight of his anger and her sadness. Finding Lilly's killer had not brought them enough closure, and then he got tangled up with the gang fight and the trial… it had all been too much. She just couldn't handle his method of revenge. She wanted justice and he wanted to bring it about with his own hands. But if the person that had caused the bus to crash had taken advantage of all the connections she was sure she'd made, after so much work, then Logan might be able to move past the circumstances that had kept him from working through his grief and his anger. Everything would come out—not just the killer, but the gang relations, the Fitzpatricks connection, the interest in Kendall Casablancas, and the relative ease that came with shifting blame onto so many parties that were guilty of nearly everything except murder.

"Maybe nothing," he uttered. "Why can't you see that we're never going to change each other? It's going to hurt one way or another, isn't it better that we're together?"

"Love shouldn't hurt that much, Logan."

"You talk a good game, Mars, but show me any relationship that's free of pain, and I'll walk away from you right now. Nothing is that black and white."

"I have to go in there. I can't make a decision now. Sometimes I feel like I'll never know the right thing to do with you. All I'm sure of right now is that I have to find out if there is anything in that house that can confirm my suspicions. I know how you feel, Logan. Trust me, you've made that abundantly clear."

"At least I've done something right, then."

"You can't talk me into being with you," she said quietly.

"You're right. This isn't a decision you can be talked into or talk yourself out of. It's something you've got to feel, an ache that you can't get rid of, something so deep down in your body that nothing you do to distract yourself can ease."

Perhaps she was wrong; perhaps his words could make her come to a realization. But only because she knew he was speaking from experience, and not just his. It was why she'd allowed herself to slip so many times. Being with him was the only time she got relief. She couldn't stay away from him, not forever. But she had to for a little while longer.

"I'll just be five minutes," she promised, easing her hand on the door release. "Five minutes."

He nodded and watched her go, one more time. "I'll be right here."

She nodded and shut the door behind her, walking with purpose up to the large front entry of the Casablancas' house, to be greeted by someone who was blissfully ignorant, an unwilling conspirator, or a killer. It was like playing Russian roulette by simply pressing the doorbell. Logan pulled out his phone before she stepped off the paved drive and dialed.

"Hello, Keith? How fast can you get to the Casablancas' house?"


	17. Stick Your Heart Inside of my Chest

Story Title: Never Enough

Chapter Title: Stick Your Heart Inside of My Chest

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Jess and Rory stood just inside her hotel room as Lorelai and Keith looked at them from across the spacious room. Jess and Lorelai considered each other for a moment, her memory for times past clear on her face. He squared his shoulders, like a boxer preparing for a fight.

"Mom, I need to speak with you," Rory pointed to the balcony.

Lorelai narrowed her gaze at Jess. "Fine."

Keith and Jess watched the ladies step out onto the balcony. "Wow. She must hate you a lot," Keith acknowledged.

"It's that obvious, huh?"

"You can't blame her," Keith said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "It's not the easiest thing to watch—you kids and your drama. It's one thing to forgive each other, but as a parent, who can't stand to see their kid get hurt, it's hard to watch."

Jess looked out the glass doors, at the two women engaged in conversation. "I was a kid back then. I'm different now. I would never have gone looking for her, asking her for a second chance. But she's here, she's offering one."

Keith smiled tightly. "I think that's great. Most people, they don't get second chances."

"They certainly aren't for the faint of heart," Jess agreed.

XXXX

"I know you don't like this," Rory began.

"Don't like this? Why wouldn't I enjoy anything that began with my daughter lying to me, flying across the country, and ending with me having to chase her down using a private investigator only to end up in a hotel room with you and Jess?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you. Do you trust him?"

"Yes. I do," Rory said without batting an eyelash. "I think he's ready for this. I think we're both ready for this."

"What about Logan? Don't you care that you're engaged to him?"

Rory turned and put her hands on the top metal railing and looked out over the beach. "I think he's the one that hired Mr. Mars, to take follow me and take photos of me and Jess."

"Not to sound unsupportive, but can you blame him?" Lorelai asked.

Rory turned to look at her mother, "Excuse me?"

Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "You agreed to marry him, Rory. Then he comes home from a business trip to find you gone, with no explanation. He was probably worried, or wanting to surprise you, so he did what rich people are taught to do—use their money to get what they want. He wanted to find you, and you probably weren't being very helpful with the information, so he found you. And then some," she added.

"You think it's excusable that he spied on me? That he tried to blackmail Jess into walking away from me?" Rory asked, enraged.

Lorelai shook her head. "I'm not making excuses for Logan. But I told you many times, not to get involved in that world. I warned you, over and over. I couldn't stop you, but you know I didn't like it. I know what it's like, the expectations, the way that they never think they need to play by rules set for 'everyone else'," she used air quotes. "Assuming it really was Logan who did that, ask yourself this—does it really surprise you, given what you did, that this was the route he took to deal with it?"

Rory shook her head. "Fine. Then you're right. I have no business being a part of that world. I don't want to be with someone who acts like that. Even if he thought he was justified because he had the funds to make things swing back in his favor," she shook her head.

"All right, so maybe you really don't want to be with Logan. I'm not going to lose sleep over that decision. But Rory, come on," she gestured back toward the room.

Rory crossed her arms over her chest. "I know you hate Jess," she sighed.

"I don't hate him. I am happiest when he's three thousand miles away from you," she clarified.

"I love him," Rory said without missing a beat. "I always thought I did, since we were younger, but now," she nodded. "That's why I came out here. I had to know."

Lorelai looked into the room and frowned. "Love, huh?"

"I don't expect you to high-five me," Rory admitted. "But yes. Love."

"So, what now?" Lorelai asked.

"Well," Rory began, but was cut off by Keith opening the door.

"Sorry, ladies. I have to go. Let me know if you need anything else while you're in town, Lorelai."

Lorelai moved to stand in front of him. "Is everything okay?"

Keith checked his concealed weapon and patted his pockets. "I certainly hope so. Nice to meet you."

And with that, he took off. The girls stepped back into the room to join Jess. Rory grabbed his hand, and he shrugged by way of explaining the other man's exit.

"He got a phone call, saying Veronica was in trouble," Jess explained. "It wasn't a long chat, time seemed to be of the essence."

"I hope she's okay. She's been working on something big, something about a bus crash. Did you hear about that?"

Jess nodded. "Hard not to. It was all over the news, lots of kids died. They blamed the bus driver, but I'm not sure that theory panned out. The Sherriff here is sort of dipshit."

Lorelai cleared her throat. "Well, I'm sure Keith can handle it. Why don't we get back to the task at hand?"

Rory sighed. "I guess I should call Logan."

"We'll give you some space," Lorelai offered.

"We will?" Jess asked, putting the emphasis on the first word.

"Yes. We will. You're going to take me to get some coffee. I hear you know a good place," Lorelai said, her tone insistent.

"Right. I guess we'll see you later," Jess said, leaning in to give Rory a quick kiss on the cheek. He had no idea exactly what they'd said to each other out there, but he'd noticed the daggers Lorelai had shot his way through the glass and the defensive stances they'd taken with one another. Apparently since he left the tiny hamlet they lived in, they'd been through something that had allowed a little distance to separate them; normally they were stuck together like glue, even when they didn't necessarily agree. They came to truces, eventually. He wondered if Lorelai would agree to disagree about his presence in her daughter's life.

Rory nodded and watched as they walked out of her hotel room, neither looking at all at ease being in the other's company. She waited for the door to click shut before she took out her cell and dialed Logan's phone.

XXXX

Kendall Casablancas, aka Pricilla Banks, opened the door to her husband's house with sunglasses shoved up into her hair, her bikini straining from the curves of her body, and her cover up failing to do more than billow behind her like she was in her very own music video.

"What are you selling? You look way too old to be a Girl Scout," she said with disdain.

"Funny. You look to old to be banging your stepson's friends," Veronica shot back calmly.

Kendall narrowed her gaze at Veronica. "I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong house. I'm madly in love with my husband," she flashed a fake smile.

"Well, that's obvious. Why else would you open your own door dressed like an extra from a Whitesnake video? Hoping to entice the delivery guy? It must be lonely, spending all day working on your tan. Though, I guess it helps to live a double life. Two identities, that's very ambitious. It takes a lot of skill to pull off, but you're about as good as covering your tracks as that cover up you're sort of wearing conceals, well, anything. It wouldn't kill you to leave something to imagination, would it?"

Kendall pulled the door closed behind her. "What do you want? Payoff to keep your mouth shut? And what's it to you? Do you have a crush on Dick or something? Trust me, nothing I do affects Dick, unless you count all the time he has to spend in the bathroom after seeing me poolside," she smirked.

"Wow. That entire response was horrifying. I don't want anything from you, but sadly, I do think I can help you, as much as you turn my stomach. Can I come in or is your husband home?"

Kendall hesitated. "Help me? Sweetheart, I don't need any help."

"If you're sure. You do know that Clarence Wiedman is on your trail, right? I don't know how you've gotten mixed up with Kane interests, but trust me, I've seen him in action. He breaks bones like he's snapping into a Slim Jim. But if you know what you're doing," she turned to leave, knowing it would take the other woman a second to allow her entrance.

"Wait. Fine. Come in. But you can only stay for five minutes, then you have to disappear. I have wifely duties to perform today."

Veronica shuddered. "I'm going to pretend that means you're throwing a cocktail party for his work associates," she said as she moved into the house, giving Logan a signal behind her back as she walked into the house.

XXXX

Rory waited with the phone to her ear, her anxiety building with each ring. She knew there was no going back now. Her mother's words reverberated in her head, and she hated to admit that Lorelai had been spot on. Not only should she have expected an outcome like this, but she'd sort of brought it on herself. If she wanted honesty from Logan, she had to give it first. Being drawn to Jess, having cold feet for wedding planning—neither of those were a good reason to have taken off and lied about her whereabouts. She should have been honest. She should have asked Logan for time. She should have told the truth. It wouldn't have changed the way she felt about Jess, but it would have changed how things ended between her and Logan. That's what this was, their end. The thought made her want to hang up, and put it off, but she knew it had to be done. It would never be easy, but she'd come to learn that so much in life wasn't.

"Hello?"

"Logan, hi. It's me."

"Where are you calling from? This isn't your cell," he pointed out, clearly having delayed answering due not recognizing an unknown number.

"I'm calling from the hotel line."

He sighed. "You're still in California."

"Yes," she admitted, the first of a multitude of answers he wouldn't like.

"I need to see you," he said, his voice full of earnest.

"I'm not sure when that can happen," she hesitated.

"Give me a half an hour," he said, ready to end the call.

"Wait, for what? To book a flight? I'm not sure that's," she began.

"To get to your hotel. Are you alone?"

"Yes. Where are you?"

"Thirty minutes," he said and then disconnected. She frowned at the receiver before she put it down. It wasn't the first time this man had made her nervous, but she realized it was probably going to be the last.

XXXX

"Where is she?"

Logan leaned against his driver's side door, arms crossed, and tilted his head toward the house. "You got here fast. Her five minutes aren't even up."

"Let's just say I didn't heed speed limits on my way over. Are you sure she's in danger? Why are you just standing there?"

Logan sighed. "She's pretty sure she knows who's behind the bus crash. I have no idea who is in the house; she didn't want me coming in with her."

Keith looked at him in shock. "And you just let her go in there, with a potential mass murderer?"

Logan cocked his head. "Have you ever had any luck reasoning with her once her mind is set?"

Keith looked at the house. "So we wait?"

Logan looked at his watch. "She has thirty more seconds. If she doesn't come out, I'm going in."

"Does she know you called me?"

"No. Pretty sure she won't be too happy with me if nothing goes down."

"Did she pick the lock?"

Logan laughed. "No, she was granted entry by one Kendall Casablancas, who while not virtuous is also not likely to mastermind a bus crash or do anything that might get her hands dirty. There isn't enough money in killing for killing sake for her taste."

"Who does Veronica suspect?" Keith pressed, wanting to know what he was looking for when they had to bust in the front door, no doubt something he'd receive a bill for from the owner, whether or not he was awaiting bail at the time.

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but checked his watch. "Shit. Her five minutes are up. Follow me."

XXXX

Jess sat, tapping his foot against the floor, wishing he could pull out his book and read. The woman sitting across from him didn't scare him, but knowing that she would be happier if a bus hit him or he developed a form of amnesia that only wiped his memory of her daughter didn't give him warm fuzzy feelings.

"So, Jess. What do you do out here in sunny California?"

He considered her question. It sounded like a harmless conversation starter; some light small talk to pass the time. But he had an inkling that nothing this woman said was accidental.

"This and that."

She took a sip. "See your dad much?"

Jess sighed and shifted his weight. "Luke told you?"

"Well, he is the only one that knew what happened to you, when you disappeared from the face of the earth."

"I'm sure that broke you up inside," he scoffed.

"Well, it broke my kid up, so yeah, it wasn't exactly a lot of fun for me either. I tried to help her through it, but yeah, I thought it was probably for the best."

"So did I. That's why I left. Well, that and Luke didn't give me much choice."

Lorelai exhaled. "You… gave him no choice!"

He nodded calmly, something that was escaping his present company. "I know. Luke has forgiven me. So has Rory. I was messed up back then."

"And now?"

"I'm not that punk kid. I have a job. I have a house. I have a life."

"In California."

He nodded. "In California."

She looked out the window. It wasn't her place to get involved. It wasn't her choice. It was between her daughter and this man to decide how they'd proceed with a relationship, be it long distance or one giving something up for the other. But she couldn't help but hope that it wasn't Rory who would have to make the concessions.

XXXX

Logan had directed Keith around the back, to the side gate to the pool. It was never locked, at least, not since the trophy wife moved in. She liked an easy in and out for potential visitors best not seen by her husband. As a former visitor, he made a beeline for it, and they slipped through easily.

"Do you see her?" Keith asked, looking toward the glass-faced rear of the house. "I don't see anything. Wait," he said, looking up toward the second floor. "Did you see that? Someone just walked from left to right."

Logan shook his head. "No. Here, let's go up closer."

"I don't believe you," they heard Kendall say.

"You don't have to. But I'm telling you, he set you up. He had me investigate you, to make sure everyone knew what you were up to, so that when it came time to point fingers, your background would reflect badly and make you a likely candidate. Who was supposed to be on that bus? Think about it."

Kendall shook her head. "He's just a kid. No one listens to him, Veronica. Not just at school, but here. His Dad barely knows those kids exist, which is good since neither one of them is exactly a prize."

"She's okay," Logan breathed, barely audible.

Keith remained still, but on guard as he listened to his daughter try to convince Kendall she was in danger and to help her find hard evidence. He'd trained her daughter after all, and he just hoped she was as alert to the presence in the house that he'd seen moving on the upper floor.

"No one listens," came a third voice, making both men tense.

"Beaver," Veronica started.

"Cassidy. I'm so tired of correcting people. I know you know my name. It seems you know a little too much about me, in fact," he said, his voice now growing a little louder. Keith gestured to Logan that he was going to move for a line of sight. If something bad was about to happen, it was best to take the kid by surprise.

"Cassidy," Veronica corrected. "Look, I don't know everything. I don't know why you would do something like this, but I'm sure you must have had a reason," she led, trying to get him to confess, to prepare himself emotionally for turning himself in.

"It doesn't matter what his reason is, clearly if he killed a busload of kids, he was batshit crazy! Your father is going to kill you, so don't worry about having to stand trial," Kendall began scolding the teen, marking herself as someone who would never survive in a horror movie. In fact, if her career as a trophy wife failed to pan out, it might make a perfect back up career.

"I'm not crazy!" Cassidy yelled. "Just wait until my father finds out what you've been up to. You'd be back at the trailer park before nightfall, that is, if you were leaving at all," he said, then revealing something that made Kendall gasp. Veronica made no noise. Keith took a breath, ready for motion as he moved just far enough to have a better line of sight on Cassidy Casablancas. The teen had a gun, which wasn't the biggest surprise, but it was what he'd feared as soon as Logan called.

"I understand why you wanted to set Kendall up," Veronica reasoned with him. "But why involve Terrance Cook and Woody Goodman?" she asked, referring to the men who the students had gone to visit during their field trip the day of the bus crash.

"I could care less about Terrance Cook. But Woody Goodman," he shook his head bitterly. "Do you have any idea what he's gotten away with? What he did to me, it was disgusting. And I tried telling my dad, but what did he tell me? To stop lying," he spat out. "I've wasted enough time with you two, especially you, taking all this time trying to figure this out. Too bad you'll never get to tell your story. When I'm done with you, I'm going to take care of Woody for good."

"Think about this, Cassidy. Do you really want to hurt more people? Why not just come with me and tell the police what Woody Goodman did to you, and see justice done?"

"Justice? Like they'll believe me over him. He's the mayor, he's important, no one cares that he molested me and all those other kids. But no one else was willing to step up, and I can't let him get away with it. Not anymore."

"You're not going to do anything, Cassidy," Kendall instructed. "You're going to put the gun down and wait for the police to get here," she said, moving for the phone.

"Put the phone down," he warned.

"Make me," she snapped back, to which he pointed his gun at her.

"I said, put it down."

"Kendall, listen to him. He has the power in this situation," Veronica tried to reason with her.

"Please. He's a pussy. He's always been a whiny little baby. He wouldn't dare," she said, her eyes flashing at him.

"You don't have any effect on me, Kendall, I'm not some dumb horny kid that you can manipulate with your skimpy outfits," he warned.

"Please. Like I'd ever fuck you," she condescended.

"Cassidy, no!" Veronica yelled, to which Keith stepped up and took aim. Two gunshots went off, and confusion took over.

XXXX

Rory opened her hotel room door, to see a blonde man with troubled brown eyes. Concern lined his face, and his posture was that of a weary traveller. Part of her problem was, she had no idea how much travelling he'd been doing of late.

"Can I come in?"

Rory nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

He stepped into her room and took survey of the state of her living space. He no doubt took stock of the extra luggage. She waited while he looked.

"Mom's here," she said finally.

"Little family vacation?" he asked, though his heart wasn't in the ruse of covering his tracks.

"She had some information she thought I needed to know," she offered. "I guess using the phone is passé."

"Sometimes it does better to get an eye on the situation," he offered, his tone firm.

"Is that why you spied on me?"

Now she'd poked the bear. The game was on, to decide who was the bigger devil—whose sins were unforgivable. Not that the winner would gain sleep lost in the coming nights or the remedy for a broken heart. It was just a fight they'd been putting off, rage pent up that had to be expressed at one another.

"You're my fiancé, Rory. Perhaps you forgot, but while you were sleeping with that guy, you were still engaged to me. Taking your ring off doesn't nullify our agreement," he nearly growled. He tried hard to suppress his anger normally, choosing to be a happier person most of the time, but there was so much that he tried to clamp down—sometimes he seeped out. Usually these interludes were saved for his father, the source of most of his resentment. But nothing his father had ever done had made him this livid.

"No matter what I did, or what you thought I was up to, it doesn't give you a right to try to blackmail anyone, Logan. My decisions can't be bought, and neither can Jess'."

"Don't say his name like that, not to me," he turned away from her, as if her words had been too painful to face. "Like he means something to us."

"He means something to me," she defended. "I wouldn't risk everything for something that didn't matter."

His eyes flashed at her. "You aren't considering staying here with him?"

She crossed her arms. "Does it matter? I can't come back with you."

"Yes, you can. You can get your things, get on the plane with me, and we'll set things right."

"Set things right? Are you insane? How could either one of us ever trust one another again? Do you really want to be with me, knowing I'd been with someone else? Knowing I love someone else?"

He tried to ignore the punch of her words. "You don't love him. You're nervous about the wedding, and he's your ex, right? He left you once, he'll do it again. You and I, what we have—that's worth saving. To me, it's worth saving."

"There's nothing left to save! I don't want to have to worry that you'll send a private investigator after me if I take another vacation or too long at the grocery store!"

"I was worried about you, Rory. You were so evasive on the phone, and it's not like to just take off," he shook his head. "Tell me I wasn't justified to worry about this. The first thing I got in response wasn't a location, it was a photo of you, loosely wrapped in a sheet, curled around some mostly naked guy, who was smoking a post-coital cigarette."

She had no defense for that. Nothing in his description was off. Jess had kissed her one more time, rolled away from her sweat-slicked body, and slipped out of the room as body recovered for a hit of nicotine that would aid his body in calming down from the adrenaline rush that was their coming together. It had been too much, after all this time, for him to do anything but smoke, even though he wasn't in the regular habit anymore. But old habits die hard, and he carried a pack around for emergencies. She'd found the bed too empty without him, and wrapped the discarded sheet around her torso, not needing modesty as much as the hint of upholding it. The wind had slipped through the gaps, making her shiver, sending her into his arms in the night air, where she'd allowed the edges to open to allow for skin-to-skin contact as his arm wrapped around her and she curled her body against his. The thought of it, even now, drew her eyes to the balcony, the same where the transgression had been caught on film, and she shivered. She'd do it again in a heartbeat.

"You're right. I should have called things off with you before I came out here. But maybe if we weren't engaged, I would have never had the motivation to come out here and see if he was still in love with me."

"Is he in the habit of falling in love with women who are otherwise spoken for?" he demanded.

She wanted to say no, but when it came to her—he always seemed to want her, regardless of her attachments to other men. "I can't speak for him."

"Funny, you seem to be doing it pretty well so far."

"What do you want to do, fight him? This is about you and me, and me and him. I'm the only overlap here. I don't need you to fight for my honor."

"I think you lost your honor when you fucked him," Logan said harshly.

She sat, his words stinging, though she took it as deserved punishment. "I guess that's all there is to say."

"You're really staying? This is it. I'm not giving you another chance," he warned.

"I'm not looking for another chance with us. I think we've made a big enough mess for one lifetime. I'm staying here, for now, at least."

He shook his head. "Fine. But when he's done with you and you get tired of the perpetual sunshine, don't think I'll be sitting around, waiting for you to realize your mistake."

"I've already realized what the mistake would be. Goodbye, Logan."

He stood there, staring at her in disbelief for a moment before he gathered his composure and walked out of her door; out of her life. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She was free.


	18. Epilogue: I've Been Waiting Long

Story Title: Never Enough

Epilogue: I've Been Waiting for This Silence All Night Long

Summary: Lit set in present time. Jess never made his season six appearance, but Rory found her way to his book anyhow. Crossover GG/VM.

Keith Mars knocked on the door to the hotel room with one hand, a bottle of tequila stashed under one elbow and a bouquet of daisies occupying the real estate of his other hand. He'd checked with the front desk, but not warned the occupant of his arrival. It was a passing thought, to come here, after the last few hours of intense stress and the free fall from the adrenaline high, to just spend time in the company of a woman who had not lived through his ordeal—someone that was easy to be with. And currently there was only one person he knew that fit that bill. Lucky for him, she was still waylaid in Neptune.

Lorelai Gilmore opened her door, hanging on with one hand as she rested her head against the back of her hand. Her eyes were curious, and a smile brightened her face as her lips curled up.

"Moonlighting as a telepathic bell hop?" she queried.

"I have a theory," he said, which granted him access from the hallway into her room. She shut the door and turned to listen.

"I like theories. Especially on the rocks. Are those for me?" she guessed.

He handed her the daisies. "You didn't seem like a red rose type of gal."

"Can't get anything past a P.I., huh?" she sniffed the flowers.

He brandished the bottle of tequila, moved to the bucket of ice, and took out two glasses from her minibar area. "Tequila has magical qualities," he explained. "And after some days, that are so long and require strengths that you wish you never had to exercise, tequila can rework your brain chemistry so that when you wake up the next day, you're somehow able to cope with the after effects of any event that may have taken place."

She reached for a glass. "Then pour me some of that magic elixir."

He handed her a glass. "Wanna talk about it?"

She gave a short chuckle. "Not really. I mean, it's not even my life. It's hers. And I can't make her do anything. Right?"

"This is coming from the guy that had to shoot a kid who was aiming a gun at my daughter, but I've never found a way to get her to do anything she didn't want to do."

Lorelai's eyes widened. "Oh, Keith. She's okay, though, please tell me that she's…," she cut off.

He put a hand up and nodded. "She's fine. Shaken. Technically, while she was in danger, the gun was first aimed at the kid's stepmother. She got a shoulder wound, a graze, really, as the shot I got off hit him in the arm. I was just looking to disarm him. It lodged into his ribs, but he's in surgery, and he'll be fine, at least as far as his wound is concerned. His stepmom will have him handcuffed to his hospital bed. He got off another shot as he fell, but Veronica's a good ducker, and she's unscathed. She's with… Logan right now. The apartment was too quiet to go home to after I gave my statement, so I thought maybe you might not have left for home yet."

She smiled. "This is the first time I was glad I couldn't get a flight until tomorrow."

"So how is your daughter?" he probed.

Lorelai sighed. "Well, she wasn't in a gunfight earlier, so automatically she's caused me less stress than you've been through. At least, that's what I'll tell myself. She called her fiancé, they aired their grievances, while I sat drinking coffee with Jess. Who loves her, by the way. She's with him. At his house, which is in California. Stupid sunny California."

"I'm familiar with the area. Does that mean you're going to come back to visit?" he asked, with a little hope in his voice.

She took a drink. "Only if I have somewhere to go when I can't stand to be around Jess," she hinted.

"I would be honored to be of assistance to a damsel in distress. Especially when it prevents a homicide."

She took another drink. "Can you be hired to lose someone?"

He laughed. "I'm not a mob boss. But I do a pretty convincing Brando impression if you just need to be cheered up."

"I should be glad she isn't marrying the heir to the empire and losing her to a life of luxury and cocktail parties and pod people. But I don't see why she has to move to California."

"She said she's moving here?" he pressed.

"She just told me that nothing's decided. But I know her. She's going to feel weird about being near Logan for a while. The east coast—the kid is all over the place. They have homes everywhere, he still has friends at Yale. She wants to be with Jess, and he's here, it's going to look way more appealing for them to be in their bubble, away from anything that could cause them derision, at least for a while."

"Including you?"

She took a deep breath and held out her empty glass. "I think I need a refill before I answer that."

XXXX

Veronica shifted her head against his bicep, Logan's skin cooler than hers, a relief in more ways than one. His other arm was wrapped securely around her, the way it had been since Beaver had fallen and the ambulances had arrived. She'd been right, which had once again put her in harm's way. He'd had to watch someone point a gun at her and her dive down to avoid being hit with a bullet. He'd watched, motionless, unable to save her and too far away to sacrifice himself. If it hadn't been for her father, he would have lost her. He held her a little tighter each time that thought cycled through his mind, and at this point if he didn't stop thinking, she wouldn't have room to breathe.

"Thank you," she said at last, after a silence that was not only comfortable but necessary. They hadn't needed to talk—they had just needed to feel the other, to be together without any questions or the need for answers. The stages they would go through, each would take time. But the most important thing, they would both admit, was that the only thing they needed the second after danger had passed was to find their way into each other's arms. "You had my back. And I know I said not to call my dad, but," she swallowed, acknowledging the very thing that he'd replayed in his mind a million times since the gunshots rang out in the mansion's backyard.

"I'm never going to bet against you, Veronica. I may not want to believe you, I may not want to hear the ugly truth about me or any of my buddies, and I sure as hell may not be the man that you deserve, but I will always believe you. And I will always have your back."

She nodded and pressed her cheek back against his arm. His chin rested on the top of her head, and there they sat, fully dressed on top of the covers of his bed, his back arched against the headboard for support as he cradled her smaller frame. She curled around him effortlessly, secure in the knowledge that she could hold onto him for as long as she wanted and he would never push her away.

XXXX

Rory looked around the small house. It was modest, neat, and as most of her dwellings had always been, filled with books. She put her bag down and smiled at him.

"It's no Neptune Grand," he offered.

She shook her head. "It's better."

He took a step closer to her. "You're really staying?"

She took another step closer still. "If you'll have me."

His eyes slid down her body, following her outlines back up slowly, appreciating every square inch of the woman that was asking to stay with him. She hadn't told him exactly what happened when she called Logan, the man that had wanted her at any cost. He knew how long she'd been gone, the time he'd spent with her mother, during which she'd never seemed to accept the fact that he was back in her daughter's life, though she never threatened him with bodily harm so he was able to chalk it up as a positive outing. He wasn't going to press her for details, he never had, nor had he ever had to. He knew that eventually she'd offer up the rehashing, not to gain his support, but to allow him further into her world. If they were truly going to attempt this, to be together, then it was the kind of thing they would learn to do. They'd offer full disclosure; they'd make decisions with the other in mind. The first of which was where to begin their partnership.

He closed the smallest gap that had remained between them, his hands reaching down for hers. His fingers laced with hers as his head dipped just low enough to brush his lips against her mouth. She kissed him back, her expressing relief that they were finally alone, with no one watching, no one to be hurt by their being together. This place could be their sanctuary for now, and when they left it to go about their lives, they didn't have to look over their shoulders.

"We don't have to make any decisions right now," he murmured into her hair as her fingers eased up to the hemline of his shirt. "I never thought we could get here, so the rest, we can figure out as we go along."

She looked up into his eyes, smiling at the openness he was allowing. The future was theirs, to do with as they pleased. And for now, nothing was going to give her more pleasure than getting settled in her new bedroom. She lifted the fabric of his black tee shirt over his head, tossing it to the side of the living room before crashing back into his body for another kiss. He circled her waist with his arms, kissing her as he guided her backward, not needing sight as they wound their way through the house he'd never envisioned sharing, to what he would only think of as their room from now on.

XXXX

Veronica woke up slowly, taking note that what she saw as the sleep faded from her eyes was not her bedroom. She was still in the arms of the man she'd long loved and tried to hate. She was safe, she was encased, she was loved. She couldn't fight him, it was taking too much of her energy, and she felt tears welling up at the thought that this could be just another memory that she'd have to pretend didn't matter if she insisted on pushing him away.

She snaked one hand out of his grip, which he held intently even as he slept sitting up with his head lax against the plush headboard of the hotel bed that he called his own for the time being. She touched his cheek, her fingertips soft against the slight stubble that was rising in the middle of the night. She had no idea what time it was or how long she'd been asleep, but now she was awake and focused on this boy who was struggling to be a man. She leaned up, just a little, from her sleeping position on his torso, to find his lips. She traced them first with her fingers, remembering what it was like when he kissed her—the total loss of conscious thought he invoked, the heat he stirred up in her, the way the rest of the world simply fell away. It was like a magic spell that he cast just on her, the power that no one person should have over another. She brought her lower lip in with her teeth, just for a second, a brief hesitation before allowing herself to brush her lips over his.

It took a second, fleeting but perfect, before he was roused from his own slumber to react to her. He didn't care if he was awake or asleep, though soon he'd open his eyes, to make sure. He could have asked her to pinch him, but even he failed to be glib in a moment like this. She had initiated the contact, both the night before by launching herself into her arms, into an embrace he'd failed to break, and now by waking him with this kiss. He knew it wasn't possible, not yet, to close each day or begin each morning this way. They were still victims of their circumstances, and he wouldn't wish every day to be as hellish as the one before just to obtain her presence—he wasn't quite that selfish or masochistic. There was no one left to attempt to make him bend to their wishes, no one he had to obey. But he couldn't argue with the fact someone had stuck around for her. She still had a parent trying to keep her safe, since she didn't need help staying on the straight and narrow. She was his moral compass, his reminder that there were people who cared about something other than themselves.

Suddenly they were no longer in the position he'd held her in for the time they'd spent resting. Now he was rolling her underneath him, easing his weight on top of her—conscious of not hurting her despite knowing she'd been checked at the insistence of her father by the EMTs earlier. He didn't want to give her time to question this, not again, though he would stop if she asked him to. But as her leg hooked around his thigh, he knew that at least for now, she was right where she wanted to be.

XXXX

Rory got up out of bed, leaving him passed out on his stomach, his leg hanging half off the bed. She grabbed one of his shirts that was slung over the desk chair that was in arm's length of her side of the bed and slipped it on before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the hall. As she stood over the kitchen sink, taking a sip of water, she noticed that the sun was just started it's ascent over the horizon, warm rays shooting up to highlight the few puffy clouds that dotted the otherwise clear sky.

It was a new day—the first day of the rest of her life. It would be different now, and she had many decisions to make—or rather, they had lots of decisions to make. Part of her was overwhelmed with the urge to sit down and put pen to paper, mapping out the realities of being in one location versus another. But that was the purely logical side, and she was no longer sure that was the side that was wholly responsible for making her decisions. After all, it hadn't been logical, or on any pro and con list to get on that plane, away from the man she had agreed to marry, school, her family—and yet, here she was, greeting another morning in California. It wasn't as if southern California wasn't without fine schools that could offer her the best of educations. She didn't have to run back home to get her bearings. Her world had gotten much bigger, in a sense, even though for a while at least, she'd cut part of it out and obliterated others. She didn't have to worry about running away from things. She and Jess would run toward things, together. Her dreams were still within reach, because it was her that had the power to work for them. But now, instead of being on a faster track, she knew that no matter how long it took her, she'd be happy in the meantime. She put her glass in the sink, walked back down the hall, and slipped back under the covers next to Jess, who shifted in his sleep to curl an arm around her waist and spoon the front of his body around the back of hers. The rest of their lives could wait for a few more hours to begin.

XXXX

Lorelai Gilmore thanked the agent as she took her ticket and her ID back. She turned to face Keith Mars one more time before she headed to the security gate.

"Thanks for bringing me. You really didn't have to."

"I hate the idea of beautiful women going to the airport alone. It's barbaric," he mused.

She smiled. "I think I'm going to miss you. Alas, we're two small business owners, passing in the night."

"Is there a lot of tawdry dealings and crime in your town?" he inquired. "Perhaps I should consider opening a satellite office."

"Not unless you call people failing to get the proper permits for lawn tchotchkes and sampling fruit without paying crimes and misdemeanors," she posed.

"No scandalous politicians? Corrupt business leaders? Cops who like to grease the wheels by supporting prostitution and taking more bribes than statements?"

She gave him an eye. "Weren't you the sheriff?"

"I assure you that I'm referring to current incumbents only," he assured her.

"Hmmm. Well, if you ever want a more kindly place to be sheriff, you should come check out our fair hamlet. But something tells me you like being a knight in shining armor in this moral wasteland," she sighed.

"Well, a guy's gotta retire some time," he said. "Or at least take a vacation."

She handed him a business card. "As it turns out, I know a place you can stay the next time you get the old wanderlust," she offered, leaning out to kiss him on the cheek.

He smiled at the gesture and pocketed her card. It was one piece of paperwork that he'd be sure to keep tabs on. "You know, I do offer some pro bono work. I know how mothers worry."

She gave a soft chuckle. "Thanks, but no. I might not always agree with her decisions, but I trust her. He makes her… happy," she managed to say the last word without choking, which she considered progress. "I'll get updates from Rory. Besides, you have your own daughter to keep track of."

He sighed. "Yeah, but mostly she takes care of me these days. Pretty soon she'll be off to college and out of my house. She won't need her old man."

Lorelai touched his chest. "I bet she has a newfound appreciation for her overbearing dad right now. Even though she loves that guy, you're still her hero. Don't let her fool you," she offered.

"Ahh, a female perspective. It's nice to get that without beating it out of my snarky teenaged daughter. I guess this is where we part."

She looked to the bored security workers, waving the next traveler through the line. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah. I have to go hound Sheriff Lamb and make sure files are charged correctly and remind him that bigamy is a felony sex crime in our state, which is probably the least of what Mrs. Casablancas is guilty of, no matter how much money Mr. Casablancas wants to 'donate' to his next campaign to keep it quiet."

"Women everywhere should sleep better knowing you're in the world, Keith," Lorelai gave him a hug. "I know I will."

"I'll keep an eye out for Rory," he promised, despite her trust in her daughter. He trusted his daughter too, but an extra set of eyes never hurt, or he wouldn't be in business. Unfortunately, it was looking more and more like he was going to have to rely on one Logan Echolls to be in that position with Veronica.

"Goodbye, Keith," she said as she turned and walked up to the TSA worker, who checked her identification against her face, then waved her through to be screened. He stood there, watching her prepare to leave California, without her daughter—just as she'd arrived. He turned at last and left the airport, ready to start another day, happy to know that at least his own daughter was safe, if not taken with a man that had already broken her heart. It seemed Keith and Lorelai had a lot in common in that respect. It was all the more reason to pay a visit to Connecticut someday, for a meeting of kindred spirits and possibly one more bottle of tequila.


End file.
